Even in Death
by Calico West
Summary: A planned fishing trip between Slim and Andy suddenly goes very, very wrong.
1. Chapter 1

**Even in Death**

_When calamity comes, the wicked are brought down,  
but even in death the righteous have a refuge.  
Proverbs 14:32_

Chapter One

It was supposed to be a trip for relaxation, a holiday of sorts, to spend time not just seated on a creek bank, but for bonding. Two brothers out together, fishing, laughing, talking, and sharing, it would be good for them. But life didn't always happen as planned. Everything in the daylight was calm enough, yet deep in the wilderness, when the dark of night was so heavy that shadows didn't even exist, danger was easily hidden and often went unknown. Until the brush parted, allowing for an entryway.

A low, barely audible sound grew in intensity as it rumbled across the path, and then quieted back to a whispering rattle. The nearby creek retained the only noise as its gentle gurgle traipsed around a bend, dipping down as it met with a small waterfall, but then somewhere along the line, interrupting its normal flow, there was a splash. And another. The stream was familiar with the disturbance, as was its inhabitants, for long before the surface of the water was touched, everything underneath disappeared. The rumbling began again, deep and threatening, and then something on nature's floor cracked under pressure.

"Slim," a young, frightened head rose from the ground, the blanket that had been partially covering him was now being pulled closer to his face. In a far off distance a wolf howled, but the menacing cry wasn't what produced the shiver of fear. "Wh…what was that?"

Slim had heard nothing but the sound of Andy's voice, but instinct brought the rifle that was near his side to be clutched in his hand. His eyes strained into the darkness, seeing nothing, his ears searched for a hint of noise, but the surroundings had returned to an eerie silence. Slim's eyes quickly darted to Andy's face, the fear in his every feature easy to see even in the dim campfire light. Slim drew to his knees, pausing, as he thought something other than his own frame moved, and then slowly came to his full height. He took a few short steps until his body stood directly over his brother, as if he already knew the need to protect him.

"Slim?" It came out unusually loud and high-pitched.

"Stay quiet, Andy," Slim whispered, keeping his gaze forward into the night. There were numerous threats that lurked in the darkness, man and beast, and both could do an equal amount of damage. Knowing this, Slim didn't want to be the only one armed, so he slid his gun belt off of his hips and handed it to Andy.

"Slim?" This time it was barely distinguishable.

"What did you hear?" Slim dropped his voice lower than before.

"I don't know," Andy shivered, crawling close to Slim's feet as his finger began to point, "but it was scary and, just right over there."

Slim followed the invisible line that Andy's finger created with his eyes, but like the rest of their surroundings, whatever might have been there was completely shrouded in darkness, if there was anything there at all. He didn't want to totally take his guard down, but Slim was beginning to think that Andy's fearfulness was just the result of a bad dream or a simple case of nerves. Noise and shadows that were normal in the daylight could cause intense fright at night, especially for a boy unaccustomed to camping out in the middle of the wilds of Wyoming. Slim's level of alertness began to drop as he took another look around their campsite, and seeing the same black scene in front of him, he started to release the rifle from his hands. But then the low, raspy sound returned sending a chill down two different sized backbones, and then something scratched the earth.

"Stay here, Andy," Slim softly commanded, his posture tall and steady, he stepped forward until the darkness completely swallowed him up.

Andy scrambled backward until his foot nearly landed on the smoldering campfire. Even more afraid now that he was alone, he quickly piled a stack of wood onto the fire, but instead of the flame building up, the coals were stamped out, leaving only wisps of smoke to curl around him. Trying not to cough, Andy knelt down low to the ground, listening for any noise that would distinguishably come from his brother.

"Run, Andy! Run!"

The command came sharply, cutting through the air like a knife had been thrown at his throat, stopping just short of making penetration. Andy's hand hovered over his mouth as his feet became frozen to the ground, imagining all sorts of horrors that would have made Slim shout. He waited for what seemed like a full turn around the face of a watch by the second hand, but it was only fifteen ticks if that, expecting Slim to make a hasty return, for if Andy was to run, certainly Slim would do the same. The image in front of Andy remained the same, dark and empty, but then a noise too loud for a man's footsteps started shuffling through the brush.

"Slim?" Andy's voice trailed no further than the rapidly cooling ashes at his feet, but the response he received was enough to shake the entire hillside that he was on. Andy's body jolted backward at the deafening roar that could have only been produced by one of nature's fiercest. Bear!

_Run, Andy! Run!_

The command was repeated in Andy's head and his legs finally found the ability to move. His pace began at a rapid level, his aim for nowhere, just as long as it would take him far away from the bear. Andy thought that he heard Slim following behind him, but it was only his own body crashing through the brush that met his ears. He slid in a patch of muddier ground as he approached a frog and insect filled swamp and for a moment, Andy's body became stilled. His breaths came in short, shallow puffs, his heart racing so hard that it almost muted out the chirping beside him, but there was nothing that could silence a reverberating blast. Four shots, one after the other, echoed off everything around him, the sound hitting Andy directly in the chest.

_Run, Andy! Run!_

His feet were moving again, not caring if his boots were oozing into the murky ground, but found a greater speed once the land became firmly stamped underneath him once more. Andy kept his frenzied pace, darting through trees, sometimes barely avoiding a stout crash with a wide maple or a sky-reaching fir, but his legs kept pumping until the next sound nearly knocked him to the ground. The scream of a man, not just a shout of fear, but a bloodcurdling wail that sounded as if death were meeting him head on ripped across the land. Andy's face suddenly grew as pale as if he had been the one that had emitted the gut-wrenching cry. His mouth quivered two words, but they seemed as loud to his ears as the scream had been. "Dear, God!"

_Run, Andy! Run!_

Andy ran wildly, his legs taking on a frantic speed as he tore through the wooded hills. Limbs and briars reached out in his unseen path, hitting and snagging him, but even when his shirt was torn and something scratched his flesh, Andy didn't stop, for Slim's command to run hammered repeatedly in his ears. He ran through shallows streams, slipped over rocks, fleeing the haunting noises until he made contact with something solid. Andy's knee struck a stump, and as his flesh sputtered open, he sailed through the air, landing in a heap where he'd soon grow still, for his head now rested on a jagged stone.

And somewhere farther above, in the middle of the darkest wilderness, both a man and a bear died.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Can't you smell it in the air?" Jonesy asked, taking a deep breath into his lungs when he stepped free from the front porch.

"Yeah," Jess nodded, giving his own sniff to the air, but not as over exaggeratedly drawn in as Jonesy's was. "I smell the fresh scent of horse manure, wet straw that needs changing, chicken feed and those spoilt eggs that you fed the raccoon over there. Real pleasurable to breathe in."

"No," Jonesy hooked his fingers into his belt loops. "You ain't sniffing hard enough. Give it another go."

Jess inhaled, trying to get past all of the scents that a ranch boasted until he found another fragrance curling through the air. "Oh yeah," he said, the tone of his voice being outlined in sarcasm. "I missed the best smell of all. Mulligan cooking."

"That's 'cause you're only observing what's right in front of you," Jonesy gave his nose a quick tap, "but what's really got my nose hair tickling is fish cooking. All the way out in the hills somewhere between here and Casper, it's there, right on a campfire, sizzling to perfection. Mmm."

"You can smell that?" Jess asked as both hands found his hips and his head tilted to the side.

"Yup," Jonesy nodded, the smile growing on his face the longer he spoke. "My mouth's been watering for a piece of what Slim and Andy have been enjoying these last coupla days. Just think of those two up there, lying back, doing nothing but catching fish. Why, those streams are so hopping full I bet they're just reaching their fingers in and pulling 'em out. They'll probably be bringing home a coupla buckets full in no time to share with us hard working men. I can't just smell 'em, but I can taste 'em, too!"

"Jonesy," Jess crossed his arms over his chest and gave Jonesy a half-smile, "remember those streams were just in your imagination. For all you know, Slim and Andy are up there so hungry they're wishing they had a bowl of your blamed mulligan in front of them."

"Think what you want," Jonesy patted his hat more firmly on his head as he strode toward the corral. "I ain't making nothing up. I saw those streams."

"You sure did," Jess began to chuckle, low inside of his chest, but it didn't stay completely there as a gentle laugh escaped through his lips. "Face first, wasn't it? When ol' Isabelle left you stranded."

"Go ahead and laugh," Jonesy wagged a finger in Jess' direction, but felt the pink that must have touched his cheeks at the all too recent memory, "just like you was laughing when I nearly died of pneumonia last week. I still get a hankering to cough, you know." He let a little rattle roll through his throat for emphasis. "Maybe I oughta just go back and lie in bed awhile and let you do all the labor 'round here."

"Sure, 'cause that cough is just so blamed terrible it might scare all the animals from here to Laramie," Jess said, his laughter still trickling through his lips. Jonesy's "pneumonia" was just a couple days of sniffles, mended by chicken broth and daily hot baths and the much anticipated fishing trip between Slim and Andy, aided by the thought of all that good trout the brothers would be bringing home.

"You're just full of hoorah 'cause you're more of a natural hero than I am." Jonesy said, giving Jess a sly look.

"All right, all right," Jess nodded as he tamed his chuckle, "I'll quit laughing. Stage'll be here in about a half hour, anyway, so we might as well forget about fish we might not see and get our hands busy."

"Yeah. Hmmm, look it there. Someone's coming," Jonesy nodded to the roadway as a man driving a buckboard rounded the corner. He squinted into the sunlight, but there was no recognition made as the facial features came into focus. Jonesy turned his eyes upon Jess, who, like he had been, stared up at the incoming visitor. "Anyone you know?"

"Nope," Jess shook his head. It was the truth, as there was nothing familiar about the man driving in, but even though Jess didn't know him, something triggered inside of his chest at the sight. He couldn't place his finger on what it was, but knowing that safety sometimes hinged on such a feeling, Jess didn't let his hand stray too far from the handle of his gun as the team of horses was pulled to a stop.

"Howdy," Jonesy greeted the stranger with a nod. "Something I can do for you?"

"Is this the Sherman ranch?" The question came out smooth, not a hitch to be found in his throat, but Jess noticed an eyebrow too furrowed to trust.

"Yep," Jonesy smiled, unaware that Jess stiffened beside him. "It's also the relay station for the Great Central Overland Mail."

"Good," the man stood up and hopped out of the wagon, and because of his quick action, Jess nearly drew on him. "I'm glad I found the place."

"What's your business here?" Jess' sharp question jumped ahead of the friendlier toned one Jonesy was going to ask. Jonesy turned to look at Jess with his mouth still opened, but closed it abruptly when he saw the steely look Jess was piercing inside of the stranger.

"Tragedy, I'm sorry to say," the man looked down at his feet, and when he looked back up, he wore a face pinched with sadness. "The brother to the boy I found," a slight gesture of his head to the back of his wagon was made, and both Jess and Jonesy had the air sucked out of their lungs, "is dead."

Jonesy leapt to the edge of the buckboard so quickly, no one would have known there was ever an ache in his back. His face took on a look of horror at the sight of Andy, lying on his side in the back of the wagon, dried blood in a strange line across his forehead, his clothes torn in several places and a gouge taken out of his knee, not only in his pants, but in his flesh as well. Jonesy reached out a hand to touch the boy's head, and as his fingers brushed warm flesh, Andy jumped in fear, his eyes popping open wide and frantic until they settled on Jonesy's familiar face. Then everything about the boy's features crumbled, as his lips began to quiver and his cheeks were streaked in tears.

"Jonesy!" Andy cried, throwing himself into Jonesy's arms.

"There, there, now, Andy," Jonesy said as he patted Andy's threadbare back, his own tears smarting in the backs of his eyes that threatened at any moment to spill out onto his own cheeks. Slim was dead?

"Jonesy, Jonesy, it's Slim," Andy spoke in strangled tones with his face pressed into Jonesy's chest. "Slim's dead. That man…"

When Andy's reddened eyes turned onto the stranger, Jess had his gun drawn faster than anyone could blink. An instant accusation formed in Jess' mind, rushing forward to block out the sudden jolt of shock that hit his body as vengefulness became his only need. Slim was dead? This man was guilty. Jess didn't know who he was or where he came from, but he was somehow involved in Slim's death. Jess' instincts usually didn't steer him wrong, and since his skin had already been crawling with suspicion upon first sight, it wasn't a far jump to get his gun in such a position.

"Mister, you better start explaining," Jess growled as he pointed his pistol at the man's head. "Or you only have three seconds to live."

"Hold on, now," two hands were raised in the air as he fearfully stared at Jess' unwavering gun. "I didn't do anything but find the boy, dazed and injured, walking along the road."

"Then how do you know that Slim's dead," Jess asked, the gun not lowering even a fraction of an inch, as his every feature was blazing like a branding iron, "just on a frightened boy's say-so? Or did you have something to do with it?"

"No," the man's head shook back and forth quickly. "It was a bear, biggest that I've ever seen that killed Sherman. I went and looked, and saw all that I needed to see to know what happened."

"You better not be lying, Mister, or I'll cut you down faster than…"

"Jess," Andy's grief-stricken voice broke through Jess' firm barrier far enough that his gaze left the man in front of him. The gun, however, wasn't dropped. "That's what happened. A bear killed Slim. This man, he just found me and brought me home."

Slim was dead? News out of a stranger's mouth, especially one that Jess couldn't trust, was received with angry retaliation and he just couldn't fully believe his words. The same news, coming from one of the most trusted sources that he knew, through Andy's own lips, was a truth that exploded like a deafening bomb inside of his body. Jess slowly lowered his gun, the overwhelming emotion of grief gripping his chest like he hadn't felt since his teenage years. Slim was dead.

"I'm sorry," the man said, reaching his hand forward when Jess' gun was secured in its holster. "My name's Colton James."

"Jess Harper." His introduction came with a nod and a loosely gripped handshake, but he couldn't echo the man's apology even if he had been ready to blow his head off.

"Jess," Jonesy's shadowed expression sought a pair of darkening blue eyes. "We best get him inside. He's had a real bad time of it."

"Yeah," Jess' voice still cracked, even though he spoke only in a whisper. "James," he barely looked in Colton's direction as he gave a slight parting tip of his hat and then his steps took him directly toward Andy and Jonesy, his arms reaching out to take the boy out of Jonesy's embrace so he could carry him into the house.

"Thank you for," Jonesy could barely speak, not wanting to voice the knowledge of Slim's death aloud, so after he swallowed twice, he gave a short nod in James' direction. "I mean, we're obliged for you bringing Andy home."

"No thanks necessary," Colton stepped back into the wagon and sat down, immediately taking up the reins. "I'll be on my way. My condolences to you all."

The wagon rolled away, but no one near the ranch house watched its departure. If one of them had, a single doubt might have formed, for Colton James paused at the top of the hill and looked down, neither a frown nor a smile set on his lips, but he released a loud sigh, as if delivered in relief, and then continued on a path to nowhere.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"Andy's finally asleep," Jonesy said softly as he closed the bedroom door behind him. He watched Jess give a slight nod from his perch at the window where he looked out into the nothingness of the night, not surprised to see a bottle of medical purposes clutched in his hand. If his stint behind bars from downing too much of the stuff hadn't been so recent, Jonesy himself might have let a swallow or two pass down his throat. As it was, just seeing it in Jess' grasp made Jonesy cringe.

"Good, but I hope his sleep ain't gonna be full of bad dreams, though," Jess said, putting the bottle to his lips. The liquid couldn't really help him, not where the painful feelings truly abided, but the burning sensation was able to keep his throat from filling with the obvious sound of grief.

"I'll stay close," Jonesy gestured with a thumb toward the bedroom door, "just in case what he saw comes back to life."

The images weren't far from being alive in Jess or Jonesy's fully awake minds either, even if they hadn't personally witnessed the horrible scene. It had been just as difficult to listen to Andy recounting the grim details as it was for the boy to deliver them. Every time Andy started to wipe his eyes, Jess had to look away from the tender face as Jonesy stepped closer to offer a reassuring touch. The deeper into the story that Andy went, the tighter Jess' body grew, from his clenched jaw, to his balled up fists, and the intense pain that wrapped around his chest, throbbing in its very center where his heart beat rapidly with distress and shock.

It gave an extra hard jolt when the finality of Slim's death was spoken and then Andy specifically sought out Jess, not just with his eyes, but with his entire being. His hand rested on Jess' arm and with eyes moist enough that with each blink a tear slipped down his cheek, Andy cleared his throat, his speech now taking on a different direction. The grief was rather evidently marked, but there was also a straightening of a young backbone as he turned to the man he trusted with his whole heart. Jess noticed every detail, and he found another catch form in his throat, as he knew that because of Slim's death, now Andy had just grown a notch older. Andy knew it, too.

"My pa left this ranch to me and Slim," Andy's tone still quivered, but there was a definite strength that wasn't hidden someplace in the depths of his core. "I guess now that Slim's gone that means it's just mine. But it isn't just mine. It's yours, too, Jess. This ranch can't run without a man leading it. I'd be much honored if you'd be that man. I know you can do it, Jess, because I believe in you just as much as Slim did."

At that moment, Jess could say nothing. Maybe it was because he'd been drawn immediately back to the last few sentences that Slim had said to him before they'd set out on their fishing trip, since they had eerily matched with what Andy had just said. Jess had watched Jonesy lead Andy on into the bedroom, his eyes turning to the outdoors, even if they focused on nothing but the pane of glass directly in front of them, hearing Slim's words not just like an echo, but like they were being said aloud all over again. Even after Jonesy returned to the room and Andy was asleep, the words came back, and Jess didn't want to push them away.

"Well, Jess," Slim had trailed his right hand through the air as if outlying the entire area, as the northbound stagecoach was ready to take the two brothers to their fishing destination, "the ranch is in your hands."

"You think they're capable?" Jess asked, holding both palms upward, partially joking, but there was also sincerity in his question.

"I do," Slim gave a resolute nod, his hand completing its wide point as it came to rest on Jess' shoulder. "I wouldn't leave you here in charge if I thought otherwise."

"Thanks, Slim," Jess said as the two men's hands joined into a firm handshake. "I'll take care of the place like it was my own until you come back."

"Then you'll slack off again, right?" Slim asked, eyebrow raised with a touch of mischief in his voice.

"Sure," Jess grew a broad grin on his face.

_The ranch is in your hands. _Now it was an echo, but the meaning, and the man that had said it, would never fade. Slim had been confident, and now Andy was too. Jess looked down at his hands in their present condition, clutched tightly together into fists. Capable, trustworthy hands? "They better be," Jess said softly.

"You say something, Jess?" Jonesy asked from the kitchen where he poured a cup of coffee.

"No," the response was low, uttered without feeling, as a stare resumed into the nothingness of the night.

Jonesy sat down at the table with a sigh, the weight of death resting heavily upon his shoulders. An older man was never supposed to outlive the younger, especially when it was Slim. Jonesy hadn't been shy about talking about what would happen when it was his own time to pass, but there had never been a conversation about what turn their lives would take if it would be Slim that left the earth first. Now it had happened. Jonesy took a sip of his coffee, but the flavor wasn't savored, only swallowed with a shudder, for it tasted just as strong as his overwhelming heartache. He returned to his feet, the cup ready to be returned to the kitchen.

"I'm gonna leave before sunup," Jess' slowly delivered comment made Jonesy nearly drop the coffee cup in his hands, but it rattled enough that some of the dark liquid made its way to the floor.

"What do you mean?" Jonesy ignored the splatters around him and rushed toward Jess, fearful that Jess was so full of grief that he'd light out and never look back, even if Andy had given Jess the go ahead to run the ranch now that Slim was gone. "You can't leave here, not now."

"I have to. I gotta find out for myself, Jonesy," Jess turned his head toward the bedroom door, knowing there was only one Sherman brother behind it and noticeably winced. "I can't just, you know, carry on in … in his place, without seeing for myself."

"Oh," Jonesy dropped his eyes to his feet, a short nod making his hat bob up and down, but then his eyes quickly lifted back up to Jess' level. "I understand, Jess, but what'll I tell Andy when he wakes up and you're not here? He's gonna need you awful bad, you know."

"I know," Jess ran a hand through his hair and then let it trail down his jaw line. "Just say I needed to take care of an important matter. That ain't lying, and right now, aside from taking care of that boy, there ain't nothing more important for me to do. I reckon I should just get going now. Sun'll be showing itself in an hour or two."

"All right," Jonesy said, taking Jess' hat off of the peg nearest the door and handed it forward. "But Jess, that's likely to be a pretty bad scene up there. I mean, a bear is none too gentle, so just, stay steady, you hear?"

"I will."

Jess repeated Jonesy's advice when he reached the beginning mark of the fateful trail, the place where James had picked up Andy, and again when he left his horse at the bottom of the hillside and started the trail upward. They had been fishing on Stone Creek and all of its tributaries, and even though Jess had never been there, once he started searching, it wasn't difficult to trace Andy's wildly run trail. He continued on foot, seeing every limb that had slapped Andy's body, some that were broken, and others that still reached out to attempt to snag Jess on the shoulder. He purposely broke a couple of branches himself, for with every step that took him closer, Jess needed to expel his mounting tension, and his hands were the most available source to do so, as they snapped some larger limbs like they were mere twigs.

The smell was his first clue that he was there. Death can't hide its formidable odor. Jess automatically filled his gun with his hand as he stepped over a log that brought his entrance into the campsite. Seeing everything as it had been hastily left made the air suddenly become trapped in his lungs. The blankets and bedrolls were still in place, the fire, aggressively snuffed out just as Andy had described and a coffee pot sat on a stone, still full of its now bitterly pungent contents.

Jess walked to the bedroll that had been Slim's, kneeled down, his eyes roving for the imprints of his boots in the dirt. They were there, pressed solidly, showing that Slim's stance had been firmly positioned there, alert, and ready to meet whatever had been around the next bend. It was this place that Jess had to go now, and for a moment, his legs didn't want to go forward like Slim's protectively and necessarily had done. With a deep breath, Jess put his boot in Slim's tracks and went forward, preparing himself for the worst, and yet knowing that nothing could really prepare him to see death's cruel marks.

Being the largest object disrupting nature's natural beauty, Jess found the bear first. Colton James hadn't been joking about the size of the bear. It was probably the biggest bear Jess had ever laid eyes on, too. A man wouldn't fair well in a battle with a monster of that proportion, even if the man was toting iron. The bear had at least two bullet holes, one in the head, the other, due to the stain of blood on the ground, must have penetrated somewhere lower. Andy had said there had been four shots. Two hits and two misses? Jess took a wide step around the hairy body and nearly tripped over a single boot, blood covered and noticeably carrying tooth marks, its mangled appearance impossible to distinguish if it was the one that Slim usually wore. Just a short distance beyond that lay a discarded rifle, this too, splattered with blood, but unlike the stained-up boot, Jess could see without examining the weapon to know that it belonged to Slim.

But that was everything. With the exception of a wide display of haphazard marks on the ground that clearly depicted the noises that Andy had heard, nothing else was in sight. Where was Slim's body? Jess wanted to hit himself. Why hadn't he asked Colton James what he'd done with the body? His suspicion aroused once more for the man that had brought the news of Slim's death so rapidly that Jess started to spin on his heels for a swift march back down hill, but then his eyes spotted a large circle of blood that had left a puddle on top of a stone and trickled downward to the ground.

Jess stood next to the rock, his finger instantly reaching out to touch the dried, darkened hue as his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. Death hadn't come quickly, for Slim must have spent more than a moment leaning against the rock. But he hadn't fallen there. Jess' eyes searched everywhere for Slim, but nothing else marred the ground, except the blood. Jess sighed, envisioning all too clearly what must have taken place on that darkest night. Slim must have staggered, wandered until he succumbed to his death. Coming to that conclusion, however, was not enough. He had to find Slim's body.

Jess followed a trail marked with a significant amount of blood, his steps quickening as the droplets grew in intensity. He passed through a clump of brush that led into ground that boasted more rocks than plant life, signaling a change of terrain, to discover another large deposit of blood on the stony path. He'd fallen, but life hadn't escaped him yet. Jess lifted his eyes from the pool of dried blood, the line going forward until it reached an abrupt end. There was a drop off, but how significant of a cliff was unknown, until Jess got there. Jess leaned over, searching the ground below, his heart hammering loudly in his chest until a sharp lurch made it feel as if it had come to a complete stop. Far down below, lying twisted, broken, and undeniably dead, was the body he'd been looking for. Slim. Jess couldn't see the upper half, but the legs were long, the pants were brown, one boot was there, one boot was gone, and blood was nearly everywhere. Slim.

Jess dropped to his knees and bowed his head, his body shaking as if wracked with sobs, but not a single tear slipped past his lashes, and not a sound escaped his throat. He felt the shock and disbelief that he'd harbored dissolve into intense grief, his heart pumping so hard a definite ache formed in his chest. Slim was gone. He knew the how, for the bear was only a short distance away. He knew the where, as the scene was right there below him. He could put together a few thoughts of the why, since Jess knew Slim had gone forward into the night facing an unknown adversary to protect Andy, but even putting together all of the facts that were in front of him, Jess couldn't understand how Slim's life could have been taken. It just wasn't right. But what death, other than those amongst the vile, had Jess ever experienced that hadn't felt wrong?

Jess was no stranger to death. He'd skirted it many times himself, but he'd also experienced it in those that he'd loved and cared for even more, his family, perishing in the fire, being the first. But there had been many more losses since that dark, smoke-filled day. Why did it seem like in every rough situation, it was his life that was spared, and someone that he knew was the one that fell instead? Too often Jess had said a saddened "goodbye" to one of his comrades. And now it was Slim. Someone who Jess had finally allowed himself to draw close to, but Slim was now gone. The poignancy of pain wrapped around his body and lifted Jess to his feet, looking back down to his lifeless friend below. He'd retrieved the burned bodies of his family all those years before and he'd do it again, because Slim meant just as much to Jess as those that he had loved before.

"I'm coming for you, Slim," Jess said, wiping the unshed tears from his eyes and then he stood, going back to the campsite where amongst the forgotten fishing supplies was a coil of rope.

Tying one end to a tree and the other around his waist, Jess tugged firmly on the line to make sure the rope was secure, and feeling its tight bounce between the two solid objects, Jess started down the embankment. It was a long way down, and even before he'd begun Jess knew that the length of rope wouldn't be long enough, but stubborn determination that was entirely motivated by a caring heart couldn't be silenced by mere details such as this. When the rope's length was nearly used up, Jess took a look below him, the grim scene not much different than his view from the top of the cliff, only a decent stretch closer. Even though it was still a significant drop, Jess gauged the distance, wondering if he could jump the remainder, and as he began to untie the rope from his waist, the line slipped the rest of its length and drew completely tight, brushing against the rocky side, loosening a large quantity of gravel and powdery dirt.

Jess swayed as the pebbles rained down around him, some large enough that they threatened to overturn his hat from his head. He tucked his face closer to his shoulder to prevent the dust from entering his eyes, but even as he did so, Jess still felt the sting of the soil as it touched his lashes. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, Jess blinked repeatedly until he could see clearly again, and with the removal of the dirt, came the harsh reality of what really was around him. He couldn't make it any further. Jess didn't want to give up, but how could he make it below without risking his life? Jess was no stranger to taking risks, his life often seemingly hinged by a final thread, but that was when only his life mattered. Wasn't he now responsible for more than just his own? Yet, this was for Slim. Jess tried another attempt to get lower, but a rock hurtled down from above, and if Jess hadn't heard the beginning rumble, he wouldn't have had the time to flatten his body.

_The ranch is in your hands._ Jess' body flinched as Slim's voice came to him so loudly and clearly that it was as if he was hovering right next to him.

_That boy's gonna need you awful bad._ This then, from Jonesy, slipped in behind the other statement so quickly and fluidly it seemed as if it had come on the same breath.

_The ranch is in your hands._ The repeat was even clearer than before.

"I hear you, Slim," Jess looked down below him at the lifeless body that was mostly concealed. He couldn't risk his life another inch. "I'll go home, I reckon, just as you've found your final home."

And with one last look that brought a sigh so deep from his core that it floated down to the cliff's bottom, Jess climbed back up to the top. He didn't want to leave there, as his whole being felt incomplete, but standing alone in the wilderness where a man had fallen to his grave wouldn't accomplish anything, except bruise his soul even further. Besides, Jess had to get home, for as Jonesy had said, Andy needed him. They all needed each other, because they'd all suffered the loss of their friend and brother, Slim Sherman.

"Goodbye, Slim," Jess whispered, even though he knew there wouldn't be an answer, at least not in a vocal tone that he could hear. He searched the sky, looking up to the heavens, hoping that at least in his heart there would be a whispered word or a soft touch that came out of nowhere, anything that would come as a response to his farewell, but there was nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Empty. Numb. Brokenhearted. Horrendous. Grief. The emotions all meant the same, all being derived from the same source, but being felt by different hearts, each reaction was different. But no matter how it was dispelled, through open grief, through silence, through work, it all equaled to complete, utter suffering. The feeling of anguish not only existed on the inside, but was felt in every corner of the ranch. The corral was full of horses, ready for each stagecoach, but their gentle hand was gone. The barn held feed, equipment and horses in their stalls, but the steady stride of the man that put it all together was absent. The house and its belongings were all in their proper place, but everything felt out of sorts, because its main occupant wasn't there anymore. It even spread off of the ranch, going beyond for miles, where a stagecoach rolled, the wheels running over dirt that once held the imprint of a certain man, a team of horses that knew his voice, and a man that called out the "hi-yah's" whose tears mingled with that dust from the road the closer he came to the Sherman property line. When the stage finally rounded the last bend before coming to a stop, the driver was thoroughly sobbing.

Jess and Jonesy were there to meet the coach and its three passengers, even if their smiles were absent, but no one would question their lack of enthusiasm, for the knowledge of the death at the Sherman Relay Station had by now spread throughout the entire territory. Jess handled the team, working swiftly, as his hands performed more out of repetition than conscious thought. He patted the flank of the lead horse when he finished, turning to come face to face with Slim's favorite stage driver, Mose.

"I ain't never felt this sad in all my life," Mose blubbered, reaching out to put a hand on Jess' shoulder. "I'm mighty sorry for your loss."

"Thanks, Mose," Jess' response was close to being inaudible.

"I just can't believe what happened. I stopped the coach and left them at the trail they was taking, moaning and complaining that they were gonna have all the fun fishing and I was stuck in the driver's seat," Mose sniffled loudly, not bothering to wipe the tears that freely flowed down his cheeks. "Slim looked so happy, so full of life. How can he be gone?"

"I dunno," Jess replied sadly. He'd been asking the same question over and over himself without finding an answer.

"Where's Andy?" Mose asked, and then looked over his shoulder as the passengers started boarding the coach, knowing that he had to get back in the driver's seat himself.

"Inside," Jonesy motioned with his thumb when he stepped onto the porch after caring for the passenger's coffee needs. "Good to see you, Mose."

"And you, too. I'm plumb sorry as can be. Poor Andy," Mose wiped another tear. "How's he taking it?"

"No worse than the rest of us," Jonesy answered bleakly.

"Well, I best be going. Let me know if I can help with anything," Mose shook Jonesy's hand and then climbed on top, his shout to the horses taking on the muffled tone of his tears, but the team jumped forward anyway.

"Thanks, Mose," Jonesy said with a wave. "See you the next time around."

Andy stepped out of the house after hearing his name spoken by a familiar voice and looked after the coach that was leaving in a cloud of dust, "that Mose?"

"Yeah," Jonesy put his hand on Andy's shoulder and drew him to his side. "Mose just wanted to know how you were doing."

"I'm all right," Andy said with steadiness in his voice as he stepped free from Jonesy's embrace and walked to Jess' side. "Jess, I wanna help."

Jess looked carefully at Andy, his face pale, but not withdrawn. Except for the pulsating anger that had been forged inside of him at his own youthful tragedy, Andy's demeanor reminded Jess of himself all of those years ago. Brave, yet suffering. Hurt, yet strong. His showing that he was willing to work and not sit idle letting the tragedy eat away at his heart made Jess proud, and even though it wasn't the first time a brotherly bond was felt between them, at that moment, it swelled. Jess began to go over in his head the types of chores that Andy could handle, but there was no way that he'd let Andy go it alone. They'd handle it and everything to come. Together.

"I ain't gonna turn away a good worker, but know I'll be right by your side all the way," Jess tousled Andy's hair, letting his hand trail down the back of his neck to pat him on the back, "come on, let's get the team rubbed down."

Sometime in the middle of the afternoon, when the work was slowing down, Jess turned to hand Andy the fencing tool, and saw the boy hugging a fencepost, tears streaming down his face. Jonesy beat Jess to the embrace, so Jess stepped back, unable to watch the scene, but unable to turn off the sound. It was understandable that Andy would do the most crying, not only was he just a boy, but he'd been witness, at least in hearing, of the death of his brother. Since the bad news had hit, Jonesy was seen putting a handkerchief to his eye now and then, touching it also to his nose, but if more than just a few fell, it was done in secret. His true mourning was released spending his time behind the cook stove. Considering their great loss, it was all right to cry, as long as it wasn't Jess' eyes that were doing the watering. He kept his heartache enclosed, where only he could feel its bludgeoning.

Jess put his hands on the corral fence, his grip tight enough to the top board that he might have been able to pry the railing loose if he was pulling instead of keeping his body stationary. Jonesy was walking Andy to the house, and even though there were still hours of daylight remaining, Jess knew the day's work was done. He heard the door of the house close behind him and he dropped his head, the need for a familiar voice to guide him so strong he could have screamed. When he finally found movement in his feet, Jess walked into the barn with even strides, his hands grabbing his gear without much thought of doing so and began to ready his horse for riding.

"Going someplace?" Jonesy asked, walking into the barn as he watched Jess saddle his mount.

"I'm gonna go into town for a bit," Jess said, giving his horse a gentle rub before hopping into the saddle.

"What's on your mind to do there?"

"I dunno," Jess answered, barely looking at Jonesy over his shoulder. "Just gotta get the wind in my face for awhile. I'll be back before bedtime."

"Just make sure it's only the wind that gets thrown in your face and not a few punches."

"You think I'm spoiling for a fight?"

"No," Jonesy answered, "but if one comes your way, I don't think you're gonna duck out of it."

"You may be right, Jonesy," Jess said as he topped his mount. "Maybe you oughtta get your liniment ready, then, 'cause you never know when a man'll run into a coupla hard-cases."

That might have happened, if the Stockmen's Palace had been his destination. A saloon was a dark place, full of an equal amount of jovial and shady characters, and Jess wasn't in the mood to mingle with either. Some of the girls might have given him a sympathetic ear, but even the smell of perfume didn't entice him. He only wanted what couldn't be fulfilled, a friendship that had surpassed all others in his life. But it was gone. Slim was gone. The lump in his throat wouldn't have dissipated by downing a couple of shots of whiskey, anyway, as it had been proven by the amount of times he'd sipped from Jonesy's bottle to feel it only worsen.

Jess draped the reins of his horse over the hitching rail outside of the sheriff's office, an itch suddenly forming where no fingers could scratch as he looked at the barred building. When something bothered Jess, he could never shake it loose until he did something about it. Right now there was so many emotions that he battled, one of the prominent feelings that had been with him since the grave news had been delivered had gone partially ignored. Now that he was in front of the sheriff's office it struck a new nerve, and Jess found his feet taking a hurried step inside, the need to seek information from the only man in Laramie that might possibly know.

"Have you ever heard of a man named Colton James?" Jess asked Laramie's sheriff, Mort Cory, after their initial exchange of greetings and sympathetic words.

"Doesn't ring a bell," Mort slowly shook his head as his fingers rubbed his jaw. "Who is he?"

"He was the man that brought Andy home after," Jess' pause brought an understanding nod to the sheriff's head and Jess knew he needed to go no further. "I dunno, Mort, I just can't shake an itchy feeling about him."

"I can look through the posters," Mort said, picking up the stack on the top of his desk. "New ones come in nearly every day. It does get hard sometimes to remember every name on them. But I don't have to tell you that anyone can give a different handle if they don't want to use the real one. Go ahead and have a seat, we'll go through them together. Anything special about his looks?"

"No," Jess sat down and started flipping through the stack of posters that Mort set in front of him. "About my height, little heavier than me, kinda darkish brown hair, similar shaded eyes, no beard, no mustache, no scars that I could see. His speech was smooth, couldn't detect a drawl, I reckon he kinda reminded me of an educated man."

"Unfortunately most of that isn't listed on wanted posters," Mort said, pausing as he read through the description that he held in his hand. "Some of them are rather vague, like this one: 'Wanted, Medicine Bow, Wyoming, Lee Hamilton, notify sheriff's office if apprehended'."

"The first one on me was kinda on those lines," Jess looked over at the poster Mort held in his hand. "I reckon a man's gotta work his reputation up before his poster gets a mite more information spread on it. I know I sure did."

"That's all in the past, forgotten, Jess," Mort said, pulling the posters back together in one pile. "Well, that's the end of my stack. Anything in the last few that you have?"

"No," Jess shook his head, not just referring to the last wanted poster slipping through his hands without Colton James' name on it, but touching on his past as well. It had hit him hard too many times already, and it likely wasn't done. How could Slim have ever looked beyond his unruly past and welcomed him without question? Jess shook his head again, this time for a different reason as he knew that he could never extend that much trust to a stranger that once had a price on his head.

"Well, I'll put these back in the drawer," Mort said as he took the stack out of Jess' hands. "Sorry I couldn't have been more help."

"That's all right, Mort. I sure wish he woulda been in one of those, though," Jess said as he stood up, ready to leave. "I reckon I'd breathe a bit easier if I knew what type of man he is."

"I'll send a couple of telegrams and see if anyone close by knows him, but other than that Jess, I'm afraid there's no evidence other than your itchy skin."

"It's been right on more than one occasion," Jess said as he trailed a finger across his neck just above his bandana, giving the skin under his chin a slight scratch. "You get that way by riding with the worst of them, having the need to trust your instincts in order to stay alive. But I reckon it could just be acting up 'cause I ain't used to feeling so dad-gummed low all the time."

"I think the proper word is 'sad'," Mort watched Jess' expression, and even if a little anger lit his eyes, there was no masking the pain that was clearly imprinted there. "And it's not wrong for a man, any man, to feel sadness and sorrow in such a time as this."

"Maybe," Jess' voice lowered as did his eyes, knowing that as he did so, Mort could no longer look into their depths.

"If you want to talk it out, Jess," Mort put his hand on Jess' arm, "I'm here to listen."

"Thanks Mort," Jess shrugged, heading for the door, "but I ain't much to talk out personal feelings and such." Except with Slim. He'd been a listening ear like no other man that he'd ever met. And now that ear, as was the whole man, was no longer a part of his life. Personal emotions would just have to stay inside where they belonged. It was better that way, as it had been before Jess had ever stepped foot on Sherman property. "Let me know if anything turns up on James, all right?"

"I'll do that. Bye, Jess," Mort's voice dropped to a more solemn level, his sigh bringing a slight quiver to his lips as the parting words needed an additional line, a painful one. "See you at the funeral."

"Yeah." Jess tipped his hat low over his eyes so no one could see what was hidden in the bluest hues and then he walked out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Weddings and funerals. One a happy occasion, the other somber, but one could always expect a great turnout to both, especially if it was for somebody well respected in the area, and Slim Sherman certainly was that. The yard was filled with wagons, horses and buggies, and all those that belonged to them stood in a growing group near the two grave stones bearing the names of Matt and Mary Sherman, and the newly erected wooden cross. It had been lovingly created by Jonesy and Andy, with Slim's full name carved in the center by Jess' own hand, and positioned into a proper place in the earth, even if there was no body underneath it. The preacher stood in the center of the group, Bible in hand, his head bowed low in prayer while the remainder of mourners gathered. And in their rightful positions closest to the gravesite, stood Jonesy, Andy and Jess.

"We gather here today to honor Slim Sherman," the preacher began, the sound of sniffling into hankies and bandana's quickly following his introductory words. "Fearless, strong, kind and respectable, he was a friend to us all. He loved his family, cared for his friends and neighbors, worked diligently not just for his ranch, but for the stage line as well."

Jess flicked his eyes away from the preacher, the sound of his voice dimming at the same time as Jess took in the scene around him. He'd been part of many funerals before, some were friends, some were family, but he'd never seen one attended by so many people. It was a testament to the type of man that Slim was, and Jess was proud to have known such a noble character and not just have viewed him as boss, but friend. But why did it have to end so soon?

The preacher was now pausing, his eyes turning to Jonesy and he gave a slight nod. Jonesy stepped forward and Jess took his own step, his feet taking him to fill the space that Jonesy left beside Andy, as Jonesy took the position just behind the cross. Jess knew that Jonesy had planned to honor Slim's memory in song, but once it became the time, Jess felt his throat grow so tight, if it had been him in that position, he wouldn't have been able to even whistle one note. Jess dropped his eyes to the ground as Jonesy lifted his to the sky. There was no music to accompany his voice, but somehow, the extra sound wasn't needed. The rich tones of Jonesy's voice encircled the air as he sang of angels and light, love and loss and a memory that will last a lifetime.

He'd never heard the words before, and Jess wondered if it was penned by Jonesy himself, but the song, lyrically and especially the way it was delivered, was hauntingly beautiful. Jess didn't know how Jonesy could perform without the sound of tears in his voice, for it appeared as if the rest of the mourners that gathered were weeping, some rather loudly. For Jess, his emotions were all shouted, wept, and bled completely on the inside, but there was a young boy next to him that was pouring everything out on the ground. Jess put a comforting arm around Andy's shoulder, his own shaking with the movement that Andy's body made as the boy wiped tear after tear from his face. He wished that he could take it from him, solidifying the grief inside of his heart with his own, but Jess knew that wasn't possible, so all that he could do was offer a part of his strength, and hope that Andy would fully receive it.

When Jonesy finished the song, the preacher stayed in silence for a few minutes, allowing the time for composure to be regained. Andy stayed snuggly placed in Jess' arm, trying to still his quaking, and the strength that emanated from Jess' body gave him the willpower to do so. Oh, how he looked up to Jess, even more now than ever before. When he'd lost first his pa and then his ma, Andy had been hurt, brokenhearted and afraid, but he wasn't alone, because he had Slim. Now, Slim was gone, and once more, he was hurt and brokenhearted, but there was one less emotion. Andy wasn't afraid. He wasn't alone, because Jess was with him. Andy shook his head, realizing that he should be listening as the preacher had begun again, and not be stuck in his own thoughts, but even if he'd missed some important part, the support he felt was message enough.

"There was still light shining even during his death," the preacher said, closing his Bible and looking upward to where the sun glowed on the treetops, "and that light will continue to shine as long as Slim Sherman's memory is strong. And I believe that'll be forever."

"He was a good man," a voice from the center of the crowd spoke aloud, and there must have been more than twenty that echoed it. And as those echoes faded, instead of the words drifting into silence, inside of the hearts of those in attendance were sentiments that couldn't be contained, because Slim Sherman was just that kind of man.

"I've known Slim for a long time," Sheriff Mort Cory turned his hat around in his hands, his eyes looking to the ground, but his voice reaching up to the heavens. "We've fought together, won together, and worked together, but most importantly, together we were friends. I'm gonna miss you, Slim. There'll always be a star in my desk with your name on it."

"Doggone it, Slim, bringing the stage in here ain't gonna ever be the same again," Mose took his handkerchief and blew loudly in it, shaking his head to let the next in line know that he wasn't able to continue.

"Thanks, Slim, for all the drinks you bought me," the town drunk, Willie, said as he swiped at his tear-rimmed eyes, "and when you didn't buy me one, for leaving one last swallow in your cup for me. You never made fun of my condition, but made me feel like I had worth just like any other man."

There were a few more single lines uttered, the sound of crying intertwining with the words of respect that murmured from mouth to mouth in the crowd. It would have been evident if a stranger were among the crowd that Slim Sherman had touched many lives, but none were so touched as those that knew him the best. His family. And, like his friends, they too, could not remain silent.

"Slim," Jonesy took a deep breath and then squaring his shoulders, he looked toward the horizon, but his eyes twinkled as if he were looking directly at Slim instead. "Several years ago I stood here when we buried your pa and you were right beside me. You were strong and steady, and even though your heart was heavy with grief, I knew you were gonna be all right, that you were gonna continue to grow into the type of man your pa, ma and me would be proud of. And you know something, Boy? You did. Your life might've ended a whole lot sooner than any of us would've wanted, but even still, you've made me mighty proud. Now we're standing in that same place all over again, right here at your grave, and our hearts are heavy with grief, but we're gonna be like you, Slim. We're gonna be all right, too. Me, Andy, and Jess."

Jess looked sharply at Jonesy, as his words of being included in the family struck a strong chord inside of his chest. He knew it wasn't said lightly and that Jonesy meant them. He had long been more than just a ranch hand, and in Jess' own being he'd felt that old familial pull very early on in his life at the Sherman ranch, but now that true acknowledgement was made, even in such a dire situation, Jess' sense of belonging began to throb even more poignantly in his heart. This was his family now. And he would take care of it.

"Slim," Andy's young voice quivered and Jonesy immediately put two hands on his shoulders. "You're the greatest brother a boy like me could ever have. You took care of me more than I ever really knew and then at the end, you protected me so that I didn't die too. I'm sorry for the times we fought, for the times I pushed back, for the times I wanted to play instead of work. But I'm thankful that when I was a little hard to handle, you only gently scolded me. It's not just Jess, Slim, but I truly looked up to you, too. I'll try to be brave and I'll do my very best to carry on in yours and Pa's steps. And, oh, Slim!" Andy turned and put his face in Jonesy's jacket, anything else he might have wanted to say was turned into tears.

And then there was Jess.

_Dad-gum, Slim. I ain't the kind for making speeches. I know you're worthy of one, but if I open my mouth, a bunch of nonsense is gonna come out. Not everyone would take in a drifter like me. You knew I coulda been trouble, and as it turned out, I brought plenty of it, but you made my troubles your own. I didn't know I was gonna fit in here. A family was nothing I was looking for, didn't know I even wanted one, but then you let me into yours. It didn't take long to figure out that I belonged, as I reckon the family needed me just as much as I needed it. It did 'cause you were the head of that family. I never had the experience of having a brother into manhood, so maybe that's why I didn't recognize the closeness 'tween us right off like I shoulda, but you're like a brother to me. I reckon it's kinda late to be telling you now, but you are. I know that these ain't just feelings only on my part, but one's you shared for me as well, otherwise, you woulda given up on me long ago. Thanks, Slim. Maybe I wasn't as deserving as you, but you made a fine brother, because you're the finest man I've ever had the pleasure to know. As your brother, as your friend, as your partner, I know I have a mighty big role to fill, and dad-gum, it's kinda overwhelming to think about it all. But I ain't gonna let you down, Slim. No one's ever been able to say that they were proud of me, and I ain't looking for no prize of pride, but if you can just take a glimpse now and then through them pearly gates, I hope what you see will be pleasing. Don't be surprised if I keep looking to you for guidance, 'cause even though you're gone, I reckon you've still got something to teach me. Just don't go kicking my rear end if I do something wrong. Well, maybe you should, 'cause my ornery hide still's kinda rough in places. But then again, you didn't try to change me when you were alive, I reckon you ain't gonna go to hounding me about my character now that you're dead. Doggone, that word sure cuts a deep wound. I've never admitted weakness, but these last few days sure've made me wonder if it's possible. I'll never forget you, Slim, but even more so, I ain't never gonna forget what you've done for me. You made a friend outta a no-good gunman like me, but as you did so, you made this no-good gunman turn into a much better man. Dad-gum, Slim, and I thought I wasn't one for making speeches. I reckon that's proof enough that you've made a change in my life in more than one way. I only wish I coulda grown more under your care and that I woulda been able to know even more of who Slim Sherman really was. You were a good man, and an even better friend._

When Jess finally looked up, the preacher was saying, "amen," and the crowd of people started to disperse. There was hugging, shaking of hands, and a few more tears shed, but now on a few of the faces, a smile replaced the most darkest frowns. Funerals were sad affairs, and this one specifically fell into the category of intense sorrow, but once they concluded, the mourning could turn into conversing, sharing memories that weren't all sadness, and soon even Mose could be heard laughing over the group of people, as he told a tale about Slim's earliest days with the stage line to the closest listening ear. Jess heard the words, but couldn't himself draw a smile. Maybe later, a long, long time later.

"Your words were nice, Jonesy," Andy said softly, drawing Jess' attention back to the family as Andy was drying his eyes with an extra handkerchief Jonesy had given him.

"So were yours, Andy," Jonesy gave Andy's shoulder another squeeze and then with a slight pat to his back, ushered him in the direction of the preacher where the closest friends and neighbors gathered to offer their sympathies.

"I couldn't say mine aloud," Jess whispered, his eyes fastened to his boots. "You reckon it made any difference?"

"No, Jess," Jonesy tapped on Jess' chest, "when words are spoken from the heart they have the power to be heard whether given silently or out loud. Slim's not far from any of us. You know right well he'd give you a nod of approval from whatever your soul was speaking. I would, too."

"Thanks."

"I better go greet the neighbors with Andy. Coming?"

"Nah," Jess shook his head quickly. "I ain't too comfortable in crowds. I reckon I'll just wander around a bit. I'll be back in time for the evening chores."

He was true to his word and returned for the chores, but somehow his hands worked through them too quickly, and Jess found his way back inside of the house. Jess wondered if he'd ever get over the strange sensation that he felt whenever he stepped through the front door, as the emptiness seemed to hit him square in the face like a solid punch. There had been a few times he went back out and entered again, but each time it was the same. It just couldn't feel right, because Slim was no longer there.

"Want anything to eat?" Jonesy asked as Jess entered the kitchen, waving his arm around to show the wide display of food from friends and neighbors that covered every inch of space. "You have your choice of three different plates of fried chicken. Oh and there's the biggest kettle of ham and beans you'll ever see, too. It's especially good with Amelia Wesson's biscuits. Like air they are."

"Andy already in bed?" Jess asked, looking over the contents set out through the entire kitchen and when he saw Jonesy nod, he continued, "Good. Been a long day. Dad-gum, Laramie's ladies sure know how to bring a spread."

"Fill up a plate, Jess," Jonesy said as he handed Jess an empty dish. "You haven't had much these past few days. You don't wanna fall over in a faint, do you?"

"No," Jess shook his head as he began the rotation around the room from dish to dish, adding a portion of each one to his growing plate, even all three versions of fried chicken. "I reckon I do gotta stay strong for Andy."

"And for yourself," Jonesy nodded and then he filled a cup of coffee to set before Jess when he sat down at the table, and Jonesy didn't miss that Jess had seated himself in Slim's usual place, at the head.

Jonesy poured himself a cup and pulled out a chair, the long day finally catching up to him, he put a hand to his back as he slid into the seat, and then patted out a yawn before putting the cup to his lips. It tasted good, strong, but he needed it to be, they all needed it to be. But the strength that they needed the most was in each other. He knew that Jess was fortified with a large dose, in Andy, strength had the beginnings of growth because one of its surest sources was close at hand, but in his own self, Jonesy felt like his had taken a severe blow. It'd take time to feel strong again. But he had reason to allow its broadening, two in fact, and one of them was sitting at the table next to him.

One of the sentiments echoed the most during the funeral was that Slim was a good man. Jonesy looked over at Jess, putting the last bite from his plate into his mouth, knowing that here was a good man too. They were fortunate to have him. Jess was no stranger to trouble, there was no doubt about that, but he was honorable, trustworthy, and could care just as fiercely as he could fight. Jonesy had taken Slim under his wing, and now he would do the same to Jess. And, as Jonesy was soon to note, that would be starting now.

Jonesy could see the eyelids drooping and then when Jess heaved an exhausted sigh, Jonesy pulled the empty dinner plate off of the table before Jess collapsed into it. Jess laid his head on his arms, with the thought that he'd only rest there a moment, but before long, sleep pulled Jess firmly into its welcoming clutch. Jonesy smiled, walking to the bedroom, he took a blanket from Jess' bed and then as he returned to the kitchen, he slid it over Jess' shoulders. With a gentle pat on Jess' back, Jonesy turned away, his steps ready to take him into his own bed for the night.

"We'll make it," Jonesy whispered, his thoughts returning to his heartfelt speech made during the funeral and then he repeated his final statement one more time. "We're gonna be all right, Slim. Me, Andy and Jess."

And as Jonesy blew out the light, it was as if the light never went out. Jonesy paused in the room, even though darkness filled every crevice out of reach from the dimly lit shine that came through each window, and felt the glow inside of his heart. Jess was caught in his slumber, otherwise he might have felt it too, but Jonesy slowly shook his head, feeling the life of Slim Sherman still residing in their home. It felt so real, perhaps it always would, for just as the preacher had said, his "light will continue to shine as long as Slim Sherman's memory is strong." But was it really only a memory?


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

If the ranch work hadn't already been performed in a routine, the work would never have been fully completed, but because it was done day in and day out without fail, it continued to do so. Even if one of them was missing. But it was because one of them was missing, that there was a hollow place inside each heart no matter the task, whether exchanging teams, cooking dinner, pounding a nail, roping a horse, or even doing laundry. And nothing could fulfill it. But they also knew nothing would. Time, as often was said, was a great healer, but they wouldn't be able to put that saying to a test for months or even years. They'd only just begun the arduous journey.

Jess added wood to the fire and then sat down in the rocking chair with a sigh. Another day was done. How they could seem to drag by and fly by at the same time, he'd never understand. While he rode fences, mending anything that needed his touch, searched for strays, and then rode home again, the lonely hours without Slim out there with him crept by, but once the sun sank down, it was as if they'd just greeted its arrival. Jonesy and Andy were already in bed, and upon their calls of "goodnight," Jess had said he'd be there soon, but the pillow didn't beckon him, for his soul was too distraught to create sweet dreams.

Or maybe it was the doubts. He had them. Mort had come up empty on Colton James, yet, his name, his face, and his role in the tragedy hadn't left Jess' mind. He didn't know why, and if he was still a man with solo status, Jess would have sought out the reason, but he couldn't attempt to unravel a mystery that might not even exist when he was needed at the ranch more. Turmoil could be defined in a wide variety inside of Jess, and in each description, there was no conclusion. Jess closed his eyes, his mouth soon drawing into a frown as the dead bear, the marks on the earth and the blood wavered in his mind's sight. Even that would never go away.

He hadn't really been asleep, more like resting on the surface between being fully awake and nodding off, but as the sound of whimpering entered his ears, Jess was on his feet, taking swift strides into the bedroom before his brain completely registered what was happening. The lamp was set at a soft glow on the nightstand, completing the visual with the sound as Andy lay crying in his bed. Jonesy was raising up as he entered, and Jess immediately brought a finger to his chest, indicating to Jonesy that he'd give the comforting aid to Andy this time. Jonesy nodded, lowering himself back onto his bunk, but not dropping his head onto the pillow, knowing that perhaps Jess himself needed just as much comforting as the boy did.

Jess gently sat next to Andy's crumpled up body and pulled the blanket down so that it didn't cover his face and then with a tender finger, brushed both the fresh and dried tears away from his cheek. Andy fluttered his eyes open at his touch, and in one moment, he was pulled against Jess' shoulder, the sobs shaking his body so hard that even Jess rocked back and forth. Jess trailed his hand up and down Andy's back, feeling the tension only slightly ease under the pressure of his palm. He felt two tight fists clutch a handful of his shirtsleeves, pulling until they were close to being torn, but Jess didn't mind. A needle and thread could always be used to mend fabric, but Jess would never turn away when Andy was in need.

"There, now, Andy," Jess tucked his head close to his neck so that his chin rested on the top of Andy's head.

"I'm trying to be brave, Jess, but I…" Andy's words were stopped by a sniffled gulp. "I just don't think I can anymore. It's hard. It hurts."

"I know, I know," Jess said soothingly, his throat feeling like it was on fire, but he kept his tone soft and steady. "But you are being brave, Andy, and I know you ain't gonna quit, 'cause Slim raised you up right."

"I miss him so much," Andy's sniffles turned back into a heart wrenching sob.

"I do, too," Jess whispered into Andy's hair, holding back his own sobs that threatened to shake him. He closed his eyes just at the right time to stop a glistening tear from escaping through his lashes, listening as Jonesy wept his own tears in the corner of the room. Jess kept his body strong, trying to be the rock of support that Andy needed as he held him, comforting him the best that he could until the boy's weeping became more silent.

"I didn't want to cry," Andy wiped a hand over his eyes as he continued to sniffle, "I wanted to be like you, Jess. Are you disappointed in me?"

"Of course not," Jess slightly shook his head back and forth, feeling both his chest and stomach tighten into knots. If Andy knew how he really felt inside, maybe he wouldn't want to be like him at all. He was angry, hurt, burdened, and in a complete silent confession, afraid. But that wasn't what Andy could see, and Jess wouldn't let him see it. "And Slim ain't either. He'd be right proud to see his little brother has been taking this like a man."

"Even if I cry?"

"Yes, Andy."

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Jess," Andy sighed, as a few more tears trickled down his cheeks.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," Jess echoed, and just as Andy had, he meant every word.

"I think I can try to sleep again," Andy pulled away, using the handkerchief that Jess took out of his pocket and then when Jess fluffed up the pillow, Andy laid back down. "Thanks, Jess. Goodnight."

"Night, little partner," Jess whispered, but instead of climbing into his own bunk, he retreated back out into the kitchen to down another cup of coffee, or however many it would take to prevent him from sleeping.

Dawn found Jess rubbing his eyes as he raised his head from the kitchen table, realizing that exhaustion and grief could overpower the potency of coffee. He must have slept for several hours, and although he stood and stretched the kinks out of his shoulders, it couldn't erase the ache in his back or in his heart. Work would help with the back, but nothing could help with the heart, yet Jess spent every daylight hour attempting to thwart both, only stopping for a scant lunch when the noon stagecoach rolled in, then again out of necessity, when the sun went down.

Now he was on the porch at the most difficult time of the day, which before tragedy had struck, had been one of the best. It was during the changing from light to dark when the conversations had begun. The day's work, what was done, what needed doing the next day, mixing together with the varied personalities that they'd seen come through on the stagecoaches was all laid out between the two men that would sit on the porch. But now Jess sat alone, and any conversation would remain silent.

Just like the silence that had kept Jess grappled in the aftermath of Slim's death. It should have been Jess' call of duty as Slim's friend and ranch partner to retaliate against the cause of Slim's death. But how could he strike back at an already dead bear? If Slim had been taken down by a man, any man, for any reason, then Jess would have faced that man head on. Nothing could have stopped him. Jess' hand had flashed like lightning for even lesser causes in his past, and its accuracy for Slim now would have been even more perfect. But his draw couldn't bring closure at all. Jess felt like he'd been trapped against four suffocating walls since the day he'd learned of Slim's death, because he could do nothing. Nothing but carry on in Slim's place. And comfort a boy in the night.

Andy's crying during the darkest hours had been like a knife was thrust into his chest and pulled fiercely back out, leaving a jagged cut open and bleeding that no matter how many bandages were put in place, couldn't stop the flow of blood. He could put a hand to Andy's bleeding soul, and he certainly would, but with his hand focused on another one's heart, then who would put a hand to his? No one. Jess balled his hand into a fist and hit his thigh several times, only stopping when he heard footsteps coming from inside the house.

"Jess," Jonesy cautiously approached the man who hadn't budged from the porch chair since the sun had gone down.

"Hmm?" It was more of a rumble in his chest than a response through his lips.

"I know you're hurting inside, just as much as Andy is, maybe even more."

"More?" Jess questioned.

"That's what I said," Jonesy nodded, slowly reaching out a hand to Jess' shoulder, expecting it to be brushed off when it landed there, but his nod was repeated when the touch was accepted. "You've both lost someone you cared for, loved even, but the difference is, Andy's letting all of his grief come out. You're keeping it all inside."

"Ain't that what I'm supposed to do?" Jess asked, his voice a mixture of its usual low-toned grit and a noticeable raspy hue, that clearly expressed the anguish of his soul, even if his outer self refused to show it. "I gotta stay strong for that boy. How would it look if I was to pound my fist into the wall every few seconds instead of trying to suppress the repeated blows that I feel inside of me? How would it look if I walked around wiping my sleeve over my face 'cause all I wanna do is cry? How would it be if I were to just stand around doing nothing 'cause it hurts doing the work that Slim should be doing right there with me?"

"You really wanna know the answer to that?" Jonesy asked with both eyebrows raised.

"I asked, didn't I?" The black hat turned up in Jonesy's direction, revealing two brilliantly sparked eyes.

"Well, normal," Jonesy shrugged. "'Sides, Andy and me ain't gonna think any less of you if you did allow yourself some normalcy in your feelings."

"Well it ain't normal for me," Jess then moved his shoulder, a clear indication that the comforting gesture was no longer wanted.

"It could be," Jonesy said quietly, putting both hands inside of his pockets, "if you'd let it."

"No." The answer was delivered with finality, so Jonesy let the silence regain control as he leaned against the porch railing.

Jess touched the tip of his hat, drawing it lower to his eyes. They weren't misty, in fact, they felt hot and dry. The last tears he remembered crying at length were shed during a fire, the most despicable fire that ever existed, the one that claimed the lives of most of his family. Once the smoke was all that remained, Jess had refused to let the hardships of his life bring a return of the faucet of his soul, only letting them weep on the inside. For many years he'd been successful, until he had to say goodbye to his best friend. Now, they could easily fall again, just like Jonesy said, if he let it. But with defiance, no matter how hard he suffered with grief, Jess would still refuse. Perhaps it was because he was afraid that once he got started, he'd never stop. Pain went far deeper into his soul than just the loss of Slim, but his death was the most difficult part of that constant ache that he had to endure. He couldn't let it surface, couldn't let it take control, otherwise, the grief might turn into something far worse than a few teardrops dampening his cheeks.

"I'm gonna be going into town tomorrow," Jess said suddenly, wanting to put his mind on something other than sadness. "You need anything?"

"Just a sack of strength," Jonesy answered simply, as if he were requesting some coffee or sugar.

"If it was that easy," Jess looked up at Jonesy. "I'd bring home a whole barrel full of it from the saloon."

"You finished the last drop of my medical bottle," Jonesy said, his eyes reflecting a dim smile. "It wouldn't bother me if you needed to get another, as long as it stays in my boot more than in your hand."

"Nah," Jess shook his head slowly, the thought of whiskey far from enticing anymore. "I'll probably never make it that far, anyhow. I gotta go to the store, the bank and talk to the stage boss, make sure he ain't gonna go and reroute the line elsewhere just 'cause Slim's gone."

Because Slim's gone. So much for reverting his thoughts from sadness. Jess stood up, his boots clomping fairly loudly as he entered the house, his hands flexing open and closed like they did before a gun draw, and an ache forming in his temples, as every fiber of his body was getting closer to expelling everything that he'd purposefully locked inside.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Jess stepped out of the bank, crossing the second item off of his mental list of errands to do, grateful that the manager wasn't demanding the month's payment when a familiar voice twitched his ears. It was true that most everyone in Laramie Jess knew or was acquainted with, and even if every man and woman on the streets were talking he could say there was recognition in the tone, but this voice made his gun hand tingle, and that always spoke of an enemy. He turned his head slowly from left to right, searching for the man behind the voice and when he saw him, Jess' eyes narrowed into slits. Colton James.

Jess kept his gaze locked on the man and the one he was conversing with, still unable to pin down why his ire became rankled whenever he saw him. James was talking with a stranger, an older man, based on the wrinkles around his eyes, but there wasn't a gray hair on him. His face was covered in a big, black beard that hid the expressions of whatever he and Colton James were discussing, making Jess unable to discern if the bearded man was Colton James' friend or foe. Since Jess welcomed the opportunity to question James, Jess waited until the two men parted, and then he took the few steps along the boardwalk to meet him.

"Colton James," Jess called out, his voice hammering the three syllables like he was pounding a trio of nails into a chunk of wood.

"Jess Harper," Colton swallowed slowly and then tipped his hat, growing a slight smile on his face as he turned to face Jess. "Didn't expect to run into you here."

"Why?" Jess questioned with a gesture with his head toward the east. "I live just twelve miles that way, unless you somehow forgot."

"I remember," Colton's smile faded. "Did you want to see me about something?"

"I do," Jess kept his tone level, but his jaw was set firm enough that his words were still edged in grit. "I'd like to talk with you."

"About what?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Jess' answer made the man across from him dart his eyes back and forth.

"Do we have to talk out in the open?" Colton asked, and as it was an unusual request, Jess lifted both brows prompting the man to quickly add, "I mean if our conversation gets too emotional, wouldn't it be best if we were behind closed doors?"

Jess looked around him, understanding the logic, but still wary as his doubts escalated through his being now that James was in front of him. Maybe their discussion would be best to not be out in the open, just in case it became revealing, and the consequences that would result because of it. They stood just a short distance from the stage office, so Jess nodded toward its door. "Come on. Mr. Burch is out to lunch, but it's still open."

"Thanks," Colton replied with a slight smile as he stepped through the door in front of Jess. "What did you want to talk to me about? Is something wrong with the boy?"

"No," Jess shook his head, wondering about the reference to Andy. Was that a ploy to soften him? Even though he'd seemed sincere when he'd brought Andy home, Jess never got the impression that Colton James was all that considerate. "Nothing out of the ordinary, anyway. Grief has hit him hard, as it has with us all."

"Understandable, poor kid," Colton gave a slight nod, but his eyes seemed to stay fixed on the wall, not on Jess' face. "So, what is it then?"

"I wanna know more about you," Jess began, and he didn't miss the sudden shifting of the man's feet on the ground.

"Like what?"

"Where you're from, how'd you come to be in the same area where you met up with Andy, things like that."

"I live in Casper," the reply was quickly cut off.

"So what're you doing here in Laramie?"

"Business."

"What kind?"

"What are you, the law?" The sound of annoyance was quickly integrating with anger.

"Nope," Jess shook his head, his eyes like cold, hard steel. He could match Colton's fury inch by inch and step by step, and then some. "Just someone searching for answers. For a friend."

"So why don't you just quit with the tip-toeing around the edges and cut to the middle?"

"All right," Jess' voice became like it was edged with stone as he pointed in a northerly direction. "I wanna know what you saw up there, or better yet, what you did up there."

"Nothing different than you did," the reply came so coolly that Jess felt a chill, but that feeling could only remain for a moment, for everything inside of Jess flared into an out of control forest fire.

"How'd you know I went up there?" Jess' hands suddenly gripped the edges of Colton's vest and slammed his body into the wall.

"I figured you would," Colton kept his voice even, without a hint of guilty wavering, but it wasn't enough to convince Jess to let up on his tight hold. "If a partner of mine were killed, no matter the cause, I'd want to see the evidence myself."

"Where'd you get the term, 'partner'?" Jess asked, his stare into Colton so sharp it could have peeled the skin off a rattlesnake, and at the moment, Jess was fully convinced he had a sidewinder by the throat, without a single fear that it would strike.

"That's what you were, right? Partners?" Colton swallowed firmly, but there was no way to know if it was a reaction to the hands by his neck or a nervous gesture.

"You wouldn't have known that," Jess pinned Colton even tighter to the wall and hoisted his body in the air high enough that his toes were the only thing touching the floor, "unless you talked to Slim."

"No, no," the shaking of his head and the sudden change of tone to his voice was finally a definite indication that truth might have never been a part of Colton James' story, "the boy told me."

"You're a liar!" Jess shouted, flames not just leaping from his eyes but from his throat as well. "Andy recounted word for word what was said between the two of you, and that wasn't part of it. And he ain't gonna lie to me. Talk James or so help me I'm gonna change what's in my hand real quick."

"All right," Colton nodded his head, "I'll give it to you straight. Just ease off, will you?"

"Just talk," Jess answered roughly, "and I'll think about easing off after I've listened."

"Sherman wasn't dead when I found him," the hands became so tight around Colton's neck that he began to sputter, "but, but, wait Harper, stop, let me go on. He died not long after. He told me about his partner at the Sherman ranch and relay, so I promised him I'd get you, and as I headed back down, I heard what must have been his fall off the cliff. When I ran back up, I saw where he'd fallen. No one could survive that."

"Why didn't you say so in the first place?" Jess asked, his mind racing rapidly trying to gauge if Colton James was telling the truth. He hadn't fed him any information, yet what he told aligned with some of the things he'd seen on the trail, too. Except, why was there so much blood?

"What did his injuries look like?" Jess asked, his hands lessening only slightly.

"Bad bear swipe, on his chest," Colton's pause was for an intense need to breathe, "bites on his arms and legs."

"I found a lotta blood," Jess' frown deepened as his eyes started to divert from Colton's face. In its stead he saw the blood. All of it. Jess had seen nearly everything that evil had to offer to a man's body, some of it being subjected to his own being, but he knew that there were many injuries that could produce a large amount of blood. A bear could bite hard, viciously and deep, especially if a tooth found a vein, but that type of blood, didn't it only come from a bullet hole? Maybe more than one? His thoughts began to tumble over and over in his head, bothered by the two things that had plagued him since the death of Slim had been revealed. Colton James. And the blood. And as his pondering progressed, the question floated through his lips, without fire, without malice, but with strange conviction. "Did a bear even kill Slim?"

"You must have seen the bear," Colton licked his lips, "huge. A killer. Come on, now, Harper, ease off. Let me breathe for a moment without your strangling hold."

"Yeah," Jess released his hold, his mind reeling faster than he could draw a gun, and then when his memory latched hold of Andy's recount, what he needed most came too late. Four shots. Two hits and two misses, or were all of them hits? Just not all in the bear. Jess took a step backward, his hand ready to find his gun, but before all the pieces came together to produce the draw, an iron was whipped out in another hand, and aimed right at Jess' chest.

"Raise your hands," Colton demanded, clearly remembering how quickly the gun had come out at their first meeting as it hadn't been far from his mind since it had happened, even flashing like lightning in his dreams. "Higher. I want to make sure your palm stays empty."

"Colton," Jess began as his hands came upward, his temper escalating with every breath. "What're you trying to pull?"

"Just wanting to be in control for a change," Colton reached his left hand to Jess' side and gripped the gun handle, tossing the iron across the manager's desk where it scooted to a halt across the ledger. He'd tried lying, but now that Jess' mind was doing more than just adding things together, but actually coming to a fairly accurate conclusion, he could no longer pretend. "Now, let's see how you like this." He holstered his weapon and then lunged at Jess, digging his fingers into Jess' shirt as he slammed him against the wall.

"I had you pegged right all along," Jess growled, trying to free himself, but unable to do so. Colton James held a decent load of strength and determination in his own guts, too. But Jess would never utter a sound of defeat. "Who are you?"

"I gave you the right name," Colton nodded, a half smile growing on his face, "but I never told you my occupation. I could give you a list of my accomplishments, but outlaw sums it up right nicely."

"Like I said," Jess tried not to wince as the pressure was tightened closer to his neck. "I had you pegged, but what was scum like you doing up in the hills where Slim and Andy were fishing, anyhow?"

"Taking advantage of a situation," Colton answered smugly. "It was one of those right time, right places sort of thing."

"To do what?"

"Kill somebody."

Jess might have kicked himself given the right opportunity if he'd known how white his face suddenly became. He had to form the words silently through his lips before they even came out in audible form, but when they did, it sounded like Jess could have frozen an entire lake in the middle of a July heat wave. "Kill who?"

"You were right, Harper," Colton sneered in Jess' face, as his hand clutched Jess' collar even tighter. "A bear didn't kill Sherman. I did."

"I knew I shoulda put a bullet in you the first time I laid eyes on you," Jess ground the words through his teeth as his chest heaved up and down with heavy, angry breaths.

"Maybe you'll still get the chance," Colton chuckled as he released his grip, and then once his hand was free from Jess' collar, he put a solidly formed fist violently into Jess' middle. Jess bent over at the waist, clutching his stomach, and then Colton shoved him firmly to the ground.

Jess landed with a thud, his left side taking the brunt of the fall, but his eyes never left the face of his enemy. "What're you talking about?"

"This." Colton opened his vest, revealing a pistol stuck into his belt line. He pulled the gun slowly out of its secure position by the handle, and then bounced it twice in his hand before tossing it to the ground. It landed mere inches in front of Jess.

Jess stared at the gun in front of him. All along he'd had his doubts about Colton James, and now that the confession was made, everything that he'd retained inside of him wanted to explode, all the way down his hand, through his finger, and out the barrel of a gun. Every single day, with every grievous challenge that went with it ran through his mind, and until now, the cause had been nothing Jess could push back against. But that had all just changed. The man that had killed Slim was right in front of him.

"Well?" Colton raised both brows as a smile rippled across his mouth. "What're you waiting for? Don't you want to kill the man that killed your best friend? Your partner?"

The short, and full answer, was yes. He heard the tearful whimper of Andy, saw the bowed head of Jonesy and the spark that was gone from both sets of eyes, he saw the cross bearing Slim's name with no body beneath it and felt the constant tearing of his heart and soul that had been severely ripped since he'd learned of Slim's death. And this was the man that had done it. This very man killed Slim. His blood boiled so rapidly through his veins that Jess knew he was only seconds away from committing murder. The laugh that swelled through Colton's chest was the last snap of pain across his face that he could tolerate. Jess' hand closed around the handle and let the barrel find a deadly aim, his head forming words that couldn't come through his tightly clenched jaw. _This is for Slim._

And then Jess pulled the trigger.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

_Click._

The sound that signaled an empty gun brought another burst of laughter through Colton's mouth. For a brief moment, when everything seems to slow down to a non-existent time, Jess stared up at him, his breathing becoming so rapid he was nearly as out of breath as Colton's amused lungs were. Blurred over the middle of that sinister face, he saw the images in front of him all over again. The forgotten campsite, the dead bear, the bloody boot, and Slim's rifle, cast aside like an unwanted toy. And worst of all, the mangled body that was only partially seen, down in the depths of a rocky crag.

"Why you, dirty," Jess was so angry that he couldn't turn his internal temper into a worded tirade. He gritted his teeth so tight together that his jaw hurt, but even though the pain shot up to his temples, making invisible smoke come out of his ears, he didn't unclamp his mouth, but somehow solidified it even firmer.

Jess leapt to his feet, his body bracing for contact as it was now his only weapon. He jumped forward, grabbing Colton by the waist before the killer could pull out his gun, the impact sending both men airborne and they crashed through the stage office's front window, the shards raining down on top of them like piercing ice pellets from the sky. Jess rolled Colton over and clutched his hands around his collar, hauling him to his feet in one easy motion. He knew he had the power in his fists to kill him, but Colton had already attempted of making a murderer out of him, Jess wasn't going to take that step all the way again. But he wanted Colton James to die. Every part of his being wanted Colton James to die. Jess' first punch stated that fact loud and clear on its own. But there were far more hits than just one. For too long he'd felt like a penned up bull, nose snorting, feet pawing the ground, ready to lash out at anyone that got in his way and now Colton James was in that position, and Jess could now unleash. The next punch was delivered with every ounce of that fury.

Colton fell on his back, his hand reaching for his gun, as he knew by the seething hatred that spewed from every inch of Jess' body that the gun was his only defense. His hand barely gripped the handle before a boot crashed down on his forearm, the other wanting to find his face. Colton took the boot that fell fast toward his nose and twisted and pushed, sending Jess flailing to the ground in front of him. He jumped, trying to gain the momentum his way, but he could do little to battle a revenge filled man. Colton was able to draw a trickle of blood out of Jess' lip when his fist found flesh, but Jess' retaliating punch took Colton back to the ground. He shook his head, dazed, but the feeling of confusion wasn't allowed to last long. He watched through blurred eyes as Jess walked up to the nearest observer and whisked the gun out of his holster and dropped it into his own. Now Jess was fully armed with a loaded gun. The time for laughter, the time for taunting, the time for pretense, and the time for reveling in his status as the killer of Slim Sherman was over.

"On your feet," Jess barked, the tone so menacingly sharp that even those watching the scene from a fair distance stepped farther backward.

"What if I don't?" Colton asked, his eyes darting back and forth across the street, actually hoping that one of those watchful citizens had run to get the sheriff. Jail and a rope would be more pleasant than facing Jess Harper, a man totally bent on killing him for what he'd done.

"Get up, James! You have three seconds to be on your feet or I'll put a bullet in you where you lie or drag your carcass to jail. And I ain't decided which one'll come first."

Colton reluctantly rose to his feet and spread them just far enough apart to show his own expertise at the gunfighter's stance, staring intently at the man across from him as Jess had already perfected his own. He couldn't back down now, and although he could clearly see that Jess was no amateur, he had experienced enough stand-offs to not cower to the threat of an oncoming bullet. He could easily place one in a fatal position, too. Colton had done it before, more than once, even when there wasn't a man ready to flash iron in his direction.

"Whenever you're ready to die," Jess gave the nod.

"Don't be so certain that it's me that will fall."

"Draw and we'll find out."

The stares were intense, but it was clear to any onlooker that it was Jess that was most poised for the battle. Colton showed his nerves, the way he licked his top lip, the way the sweat mingled with the blood splatters on his face, and the way his hand moved as his fingers dangled over his gun. Jess stood solid, unmoving, as if he was carved out of stone, his eyes studying every inch of the man across from him. Everyone watching the tense scene held their breath, waiting for the gunplay to begin.

Colton moved first. The guns flashed in the sunlight as they were both drawn, and smoke flared out from each barrel as the triggers were pulled. The sound of the shots was far enough apart that they were decidedly separate, but each bullet found a certain level of penetration. Jess retained his solid stance, even though blood began to flow freely from his body. He couldn't put the gun down until his opponent went down. He heard a shout from somewhere behind him, recognizably coming from the sheriff, but Jess stayed rooted to the spot, his eyes never leaving the man in front of him, or the blood that started staining his front. Colton's eyes kept locked with Jess' until his body began to waver, and then the line of vision was dramatically disrupted as Colton James fell to the ground.

Only then did Jess drop his gun to his side. He turned slightly when Mort Cory ran past him, kneeling at the body on the ground. The sheriff rolled the man over, checking for any sign of life, but Jess already knew the answer that was sought. Colton James was dead. The man that killed Slim had breathed his last. Jess wished he could say that he felt satisfaction, but there was nothing flooding his senses except a pronounced exclamation point in his head that Slim was still dead. He'd done his duty to his partner, but another life lost couldn't bring him back.

"Jess," Mort stood up, standing in front of Jess, who, despite taking a bullet to his arm had yet to flinch from its pain. "Do you know what you've done?"

"Yeah," the answer was delivered hard. "I gunned down Slim's killer."

"He's dead, Jess," Mort said, judging by the way Jess' eyes flickered like the tips of a blaze that he already knew James' outcome. "He's the only one that could've helped us."

"What do you mean?" Jess finally was able to take his eyes off of Colton and turned his gaze to Mort.

"I mean that Slim might not be dead," Mort turned and pointed to the dead man on the ground, "and he was the only one that really knew the truth."

"Mort," Jess' hands suddenly gripped the lawman's shoulders so tight that Mort had to pry the hands free before the skin was broke. "Sorry. But what did you just say? Slim ain't dead?"

"I don't know for sure," Mort put his hand on Jess' shoulder. "Come to the office with me. We'll get the doc to patch up your arm there while we talk."

The walk to the sheriff's office was done mindlessly, his legs moving one step at a time without even realizing that they were in motion until Jess had to turn to go through the building's front door. He felt as if he was made of wood, clunking his boots on the floorboards, his backend only finding a chair because Mort pushed one in front of him. Jess sat, his eyes upon the sheriff wanting to ask a thousand questions, but unable to form a single one through his mouth. Seeing bright red out of the corner of his eye, Jess looked down at the bullet hole in his right arm, as if only then admitting its existence of even being there. The pain in his arm had been ignored during the final moments of the gunfight, but now it didn't exist because the only thing that lived inside of his head was the thought that Slim might still be alive. That only changed slightly when the doctor began to probe for a bullet. Jess clenched his teeth together in part because of the instrument that was inserted inside of his flesh, but also in anticipation of what Mort was about to tell him.

Mort picked a telegram up from the top of his desk and unfolded it so that its print was facing Jess. "I received this wire a few minutes ago. A man by the name of Sherman, no first name given, had a bullet dug out of him a couple of days ago. But he also had the marks of a bear paw across his chest. I was told the one I was to question about its validity had the initials of C.J."

"Colton James," Jess said the name so coldly both Mort and the doctor shivered.

"Could very well be," Mort nodded.

"And I killed him."

Jess balled his right hand into a fist and pounded his tightly clenched flesh into the corner of Mort's desk, the reaction not only sending the entire contents of Mort's desk into instant disarray, but undoing everything the doctor had just done to repair his arm.

"And I killed him!"


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

"Try to hold still, Jess," the doctor placed his fingers around Jess' wound to try to once more slow the bleeding that burst open at the thrust of his fist into Mort's desk.

"Sorry, Doc," Jess barely glanced at the physician before his eyes absorbed the telegram in front of him. The words were all there, just as Mort had paraphrased it. He slowly shook his head and then faced the sheriff, imploring with his eyes as if the lawman had the direct answer that he sought. "Slim ain't really dead?"

"This message sure seems to indicate that it's a possibility," Mort answered with a slow nod.

"Who sent the telegram?" Jess asked, realizing that there wasn't a name on the bottom line like a typical telegram boasted.

"It was unmarked," Mort answered with a sigh, watching as Jess' cheeks enflamed with a rush of anger.

"Unmarked," Jess' voice bit the air hard. "How can a clerk send a telegram without knowing who was sending it?"

"For reasons unknown to us, it could have been requested as anonymously sent." Mort reached a hand out to keep Jess seated until the doctor was finished tending to his wound. "We know now what kind of man Colton James was, if C.J. really is referring to him, the sender might have needed the secrecy to protect their life."

"Could be." Jess said, tapping his fingers on the chair as his impatience with being held back was grating on his nerves.

"There is something that bothers me, though. If this Sherman really is Slim," Mort released his hold on Jess as the doctor was starting to bandage Jess' arm and then picked up the paper from his desk, tapping the telegram in his open palm, "then why wouldn't he send us a wire instead?"

"I dunno," Jess put a hand to his forehead as the pain from his arm mingled with the pain of his loss, accentuated by the shock of confusion, started to make it ache across his temples. "He'd know how we'd be upset and worried about him. I reckon if he coulda sent one, he woulda."

"Unless C.J., or Colton James, played a role in that, too," Mort wondered aloud.

"I don't see how. Dad-gum, none of this makes any sense," Jess shook his head back and forth. "I saw the evidence myself. Sure, Colton James was a liar clear through, but I saw the bear, saw the tracks, saw the blood and the most blamed thing of all, I saw the dead body."

"You told me you couldn't see the man's face," Mort said, the thread of hope small, but unwilling to let it out of his hand.

"True," Jess said, battling various emotions inside of his head and heart, "but even if I couldn't see Slim's face, I should know what Slim's frame looks like enough to know it wasn't someone else. Or maybe," Jess ran his hand over his hair, the doubts beginning to form, and then winced as the doctor pulled his arm back to his side to finish the bandaging. He scowled only slightly at the doctor before bringing his other hand to do the questioning rub over his head and down the back of his neck. "Maybe I just expected it to be Slim, so I mighta missed something important. But there was a dead man, Mort, so someone's dead, and if it ain't Slim, then who is it?"

"I don't know," Mort said softly.

Jess suddenly stood up, not caring if the doctor was finished with him or not, "well, I aim to find out."

"Wait Jess," Mort put his hands on Jess' chest. "Stop. I mean it, Jess. Stop!"

"What for?" Jess growled deeply, his feet only pausing because the doctor once more had his hand on his arm, and not because a lawman stood in front of him.

"It's my job to find out the answers," Mort said, his voice just as full of emotion as Jess' was.

"You might wear the star but Slim was my friend," Jess stuck a finger into his chest. "That makes it my job."

"I'm not just a place to hold up this star, Jess," Mort said, putting his own finger to his heart, "but feelings can reside fairly deep behind it, right here. Slim was my friend, too, as are you. Let me go and do the job of both, law and friend. There's got to be an answer somewhere, if not at the bottom of the cliff, then somewhere behind where this telegram was sent. I'm going to get to the bottom of it and you can bet your boots as soon as I know anything, you'll be the first to hear about it."

"I dunno, Mort," Jess shook his head, his fists tightening together. Mort made sense, but so did a deep, devoted friendship.

"Your arm needs a couple of days to mend," Mort quickly looked at the doctor, raising his brow for help to back up his statement, "isn't that right, doc?"

"At least two-three days, not two-three hours," the doctor answered with a firm line to his mouth.

"All right," Jess finally nodded. "But I ain't making too many promises that I'll be able to sit still for even that long."

"I'll start digging into this right away," Mort said, reading the telegram a couple of more times, even though he could more than likely recite it blindfolded, "because I know you couldn't keep a promise like that anyway, Jess."

"I ain't gonna tell Andy or Jonesy about this," Jess said, watching as Mort readied himself for a journey. "I don't wanna light a candle of hope only for it to be snuffed out in their faces. I'll take the blow alone if it comes."

"You're not alone, Jess," Mort said, putting his hand on Jess' uninjured arm as he put his hat on his head with his other, for he was ready to leave. "I'll talk with you soon."

"I'll be at the ranch," Jess turned his head to look at the doctor, "that is if Doc here is done with me."

"I am," the doctor picked up his bag, "but don't go to unraveling that bandage anytime soon. You're my only patient that I usually have to patch up multiple times for the same injury."

Jonesy said the almost exact thing to him not more than forty-eight hours later, only delivered in different mannerisms. "You gotta quit busting open that wound of yours, unless you like having me wrap it back up every time you do something you ought not to. This is the second time you've started to bleed again. I tell you something, Jess, if you ain't the stubbornest mule in the herd, then I don't know who is."

Because Andy had heard the same statement, Jess wasn't allowed to chop the next necessary supply of wood alone. When he picked up the axe, it was promptly taken out of his hands. Jess leaned against the stack of wood, not wanting to argue, but unable to not chafe as one of his duties was performed by another just because his scratch had started bleeding again. Jess crossed his arms over his chest, watching as Andy slowly, yet accurately, split the larger logs into burnable pieces, his thoughts not far from the gunfight with Colton James that had given him the wound in the first place. Or maybe it would have made more sense to pluralize the wounds. Colton James was responsible for the bullet hole in Jess' arm, but he was also to blame for the internal one that no one could see.

"I wonder what the sheriff wants," Andy's voice made Jess' head whip toward the roadway, where Mort was leading his horse in. He set the axe on the ground and wiped his hands on his pant leg, squinting up into the light to better view the sheriff.

"I dunno," Jess put his hand on Andy's shoulder, giving him a slight nudge in the direction of the house. "I'll find out. Go inside and see if Jonesy needs any help with lunch. Maybe the sheriff will wanna stay and eat with us."

"Jess," Mort nodded the greeting, watching as Andy slowly went into the house before dismounting. "I've come to discuss our private matter."

"Come on this way," Jess motioned with his hand. "Let's take a walk to the lake so's no one can hear us."

"Lead on, Jess," Mort nodded, following in Jess' steps as they went further than necessary away from the house to keep what he had to tell Jess as secretive as possible.

"All right, Mort," Jess said as soon as their feet came to a stop above the slope to the lake. "What'd you find out?"

"It took a little effort to get the telegraph operator in Red Bluff to talk, but I found out that a woman named Jennifer James sent the telegram," Mort began.

"Who's she? Wife? Sister? Mother?" Jess fired off his questions so quickly that Mort couldn't even nod when he'd hit the right one.

"Sister," Mort answered. "She lives on a small farm that belongs to her fiancé, a man by the name of Ryan McAllister."

"Who's he?"

"I don't know," Mort shook his head, "didn't get to meet him, only the sister. She doesn't have much of an opinion of her brother, wasn't at all upset when I told her he was dead or how he was killed."

"What about Slim? What about the injured Sherman?" Jess asked, his impatience bringing a rise in his voice and in his ire.

"I'm afraid that it was only hearsay," Mort answered slowly. "Colton told her about a man named Sherman and talked about his injuries. Jennifer could relay no more to me than what was in the telegram, and then she said if I wanted more information, to ask her brother. That's when I told her he was dead."

"Yeah, and I killed him," Jess said, balling his hands into fists. He wanted to fully believe in his doubts about Slim's death but was afraid to touch them, lest they just come back and burn him, like killing James had done.

"You've got to stop beating yourself over and over for killing James, Jess," Mort said with enough firmness in his voice to get Jess to raise his eyes to meet his.

"I can't do that," Jess shook his head, but then drew completely still as something Mort had said suddenly struck him. "Wait, Mort, if Colton James mentioned an injured Sherman to his sister, then it has to be Slim! Remember the telegram also said that he had a bullet dug out of him. Someone had to do the digging, so who's that someone?"

"I remember," Mort nodded, "but I'm afraid we have no more information than what we already know. It's possible that person doesn't even exist. I kind of get the feeling that maybe James only mentioned that part of the story so his sister wouldn't think he was the one that had put the bullet in the unknown Sherman. After all, Jess, he told you a fool yarn about Slim, maybe he told a different one to his sister."

"What'd she go and send that telegram for in the first place, anyway?"

"She told me that she knew her brother went to Laramie, and thought that the law here might be able to question him to find out if what he told her was true," Mort answered slowly, concerned that Jess would start berating himself all over again for killing Colton James. "She knew her brother was no good, so she sent it secretly to try to protect herself in case he somehow found out about the wire. She was hoping she could, in a backdoor sort of way, get him locked up. Jennifer opened up about that much anyway once I told her that James was dead."

"You think she was telling the truth?" Jess asked with a frown.

"I do," Mort nodded. "I don't think she had any reason to lie to me, even if her brother was an expert on the subject. I got the impression that she hated him, and maybe he hated her, too." Mort's voice trailed softer as his statement concluded as he brought a hand to rest on his jaw line.

"Why do I get the feeling you've got more to tell me that ain't good?"

"Because I do," Mort breathed deeply before he once more met Jess' dark, yet fiery blue eyes. "The body at the bottom of the cliff is gone."

"What?" Jess asked, feeling as if Mort had punched him in the stomach. "How could anyone get down there? I fought with everything that was in me and then had to stop, 'cause I knew I couldn't risk my life any further trying to lower myself into that death pit."

"I don't know," Mort slowly released his pent up air. "I even had the army's mountain troop, they're experts in climbing rough terrain, do a thorough search of the entire cliff side and all along the craggy bottom. They found the blood, but that's it. No tracks. No evidence. Nothing."

"No!" Jess slammed his fist into his thigh, wincing as he looked at his arm as the blood began to seep through the bandage once more, knowing that it would give Jonesy another chance to scold him again. "How can we get this far and just run smack into a wall?"

"Someone's got to know something," Mort watched as the stain darkened on Jess' sleeve. "A body can't just disappear, but I don't know where else to turn."

"Colton James had all the answers," Jess said through gritted teeth, his feet taking him swiftly away across the land.

Mort gently sighed, knowing that there was no point in going after Jess, but he stood still, watching from a distance to make sure Jess was at least heading in the direction of the ranch house. When he saw Jess' position turn directly toward the path to the house, Mort began his own pace, this one much slower than Jess' had been. Mort's head bowed low, the incomplete job affecting him nearly as much as it had with Jess. He'd come upon dead-end roads many times on his job before, but none had brought upon so much heartache as this one did. He'd return to town, and continue to dig, but if he'd find anything else, he might need more than a shovel to unearth it.

Jess could have stomped a storm into existence as his feet carried him homeward, the thoughts bouncing back and forth in his head crashed together to produce their own version of thunder. Was Slim really dead? Was he alive, at least at the point in time when James spouted out to his sister about an injured Sherman? Or was it all just a bunch of lies? Without a firm answer to cling to, they had nothing. Nothing but the sights and sounds of death, the disappearance of a dead man's body, and a monster of a bear. But was it enough? Jess walked up to the back of the barn and slammed both fists into the wall, making every horse inside and out of it flinch from his fury. His mouth never opened, but inside of his head, Jess formed a guttural cry, shouting at the top of his lungs a desperate plea for his partner. _Slim!_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

_Run, Andy! Run!_

He awoke, startled by the shout, his body giving an involuntary shake at the memory, of what had been real, and what had been recreated during sleep. He gave a soft sigh, forcing his eyes to stay open. The dreams were becoming more frequent. He didn't know if that was because the shock of what he'd experienced was wearing off and his mind was more aware of the circumstances, or if there was something else pushing into his subconscious. He didn't want to say that it was fear, but there might not be much of an argument against it. He'd been through too much, seeing it, hearing it, and living it, to say that it didn't exist. The images that came through slumber didn't aid in his fright, and its acceptance, either.

This time the dream had come with a different variation than the original. Jonesy and Jess had come along with them on the fishing trip, and everything had begun with all smiles. He'd held a fishing pole in his hand, his lips formed into a whistle and Jonesy's laughter from behind him lit up the camp, until it was exchanged with a roar. His fishing pole was lost to the swirling waters as the attack met with full force, multiple bears and bullets everywhere. He closed his eyes, feeling hot and sticky, and then Jonesy's hand was on his forehead. But where was Jess? Dear God, he couldn't be injured, too. He tried to get up, as he needed to know, needed to find out, but Jonesy was telling him to lie still. He formed the question to his lips, but Jonesy was only shaking his head. Jess? Was his friend that he thought as a brother gone?

_Run, Andy! Run!_

He couldn't run, not if he even tried. Something was wrong with him. There was something wet all over his body. Blood? It couldn't be, the bear hadn't attacked him, had it? All he'd seen was his brother behind him and the bear in front of him, and heard the sound of so many bullets the blasts overpowered the bear's deafening roar. The echoes hadn't yet stopped ricocheting off every dark hill around them. He put his hands to his ears, trying to block out the angry din, but in its place was a command that had come forcefully and powerfully out of his lips. He had to run. He had to run to his brother. He had to run to Jess. He had to…

Awakening brought only relief from the dim images, but the memories were still strong, and he couldn't help but wonder if they'd ever lessen. The mind was a powerful tool, full of noisy reminders and scenes that threatened to reemerge even in the wake of day and not just reserved for the hours of sleep. It could also cheer him, if he turned his thoughts in that direction, but with only a few days that had slowly trickled by him, the shadows couldn't be fully fought, even if he thought of something sweeter than sorrow. Dispelling darkness needed light, but if that light didn't come from within, where would it come from? The sun had sent its rays, but the suffering wasn't touched by its warmth. He needed a different touch.

He turned his head, searching for Jess, but even if the room wasn't dark, he would have known that Jess wasn't there. Maybe he was spending the nights outside, away from the closed doors and haunting thoughts. He wished that he could be doing the same. He was certain that Jess hadn't been sleeping soundly since it had happened. If their roles had been reversed, he knew that he wouldn't have been spending the normal sleeping hours in bed, but probably chafing with angry retaliation. Jess was like that though, and it had rubbed off on him enough that he was well aware of how he would act if he was in Jess' place.

Jess' place. He knew without a doubt where that now stood. At the ranch. Jess had promised he'd take care of it and if there was anything about Jess Harper that he knew to be true was that he kept his promises. No matter what would happen, the ranch that bore the Sherman name would be all right as long as Jess was in control of it. Jess wasn't just a man of his word, but he was a capable man, a strong man, and an honorable man. He knew it as the truth and believed it, and even if Jess was as stubborn as the Wyoming winters were long, Jess, if not now, would someday believe it himself, too.

He wished that he could talk to Jess and give him the assurance that he felt inside. He remembered telling him that he was confident in his abilities at the ranch. But wasn't that before everything went wrong? Would everything turn right again? Some would answer with a definite, "no," but he wasn't sure yet what his heart would decide on the matter. Things would be different, for sure, but wasn't there still a flickering hope that could turn a difficult situation such as this just a mite better?

He wanted to roll over, but he kept his body still, only pulling the blanket that was over him closer to his neck as a shiver from chill and a touch of fear was close at hand. He was alone in the room, his obvious solo presence made aware as soon as he had become awake, but he wasn't going to call out, he wasn't going to groan to bring someone to his aid. He felt physically, emotionally and even mentally that he'd been beat down until he was broken, but because faith existed, he knew somehow that he'd rise out of it. But how long until then? That was a question that perhaps only the Almighty knew, but after so many moments stuck in his own eternity, another forever might pass before he could truly live again. He sighed, closing his eyes as the ongoing pain was enough to want to shut it out with sleep, even if a nightmare would threaten to arouse him again. He still had some fight inside of him, and he was going to use it. Just as long as he knew Jess was out there somewhere, it was enough. He felt the warmth of trust, and he drifted to sleep, where, surprisingly, the dreams were much sweeter, and the final image before dawn was that of a welcomed home sweet home.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

"Jonesy," Andy's quiet voice drew the attention of both men in the room. "That song you sang the other day at the funeral, will you teach it to me?"

"Oh, I reckon so," Jonesy answered, seating himself at the piano. "It's not the happiest tune, that is, for those of us left behind, but it's not meant for laughter or smiles, only comfort. Are you sure you wanna hear it again? Might make some tears."

"That's all right," Andy shrugged, "my eyes haven't dried up yet anyhow."

"Mine either," Jonesy said, running his fingers over the piano keys, "let me get a feel for the tune. Mmm-hmm, there it is. Now it starts a little like this."

_Down here we mourn, in the darkness of night,  
But up there on high, you're surrounded by light.  
You talk with the angels, you're in heavenly peace,  
You have no more troubles since your soul found release.  
We know you now fly, in those crystal clear skies,  
We just never wanted to say our 'goodbyes'.  
Young or old, it's always too soon to part,  
But even in death, you'll never be far from our hearts._

"Is heaven really like that?" Andy asked, wishing he could see a clear image of the words that the song painted. "I mean, that's what Slim's feeling, right?"

"I'd imagine so, Andy," Jonesy answered with a slow nod, "even though we don't know what it's like over there until we die, we know that it's there. Angels, peace and joy, no pain, no tears, no troubles, and nothing to fear, I reckon a man's spirit can't help but soar in those cloudless skies. Want me to go on to the second verse?"

"Please."

_It's hard when someone you love has gone across,  
All we know is suffering through the pain of our loss.  
We hold on to a memory that will never, ever end,  
And wait until it's our turn to go around the bend.  
Then together we'll fly, in those crystal clear skies,  
And never again have to say our 'goodbyes'.  
Young or old, it's always too soon to part,  
But even in death, you'll never be far from our hearts._

"Now you give it a whirl," Jonesy prompted, and soon both of their voices chimed together, "But even in death, you'll never be far from our hearts."

"That does it!" Jess suddenly erupted as he sprang to his feet, storming through the front door, not even noticing that Jonesy and Andy trailed behind him as he headed for his horse. "I just can't take it anymore! I don't care what I gotta do, even if I have to move heaven and earth or topple an entire mountain, I'm gonna find out if Slim's really dead!"

"Jonesy," Andy clung to the older man's arm as Jess brought his horse out of the barn, leapt onto his mount and kicked him into a swift motion as soon as his backside was placed in the saddle. "What's wrong with Jess? Has he finally snapped under pressure?"

"I'm not sure," Jonesy slowly shook his head back and forth as he watched Jess ride away, turning into a speck in the distance. "But did I hear him right? Did he say _if_?"

"That's the way it sounded to me," Andy said slowly, a tiny ray of light beckoning in his personal horizon, just like the slight glow that met the edge of the land where Jess' body had last disappeared.

"I wonder what that boy's been withholding," Jonesy stared hard into the distance, placing a hand up close to his mouth. "He's been more antsy than a chicken knowing it's about to be plucked and put into a pot. I thought maybe it was just the grief rubbing hard in places, but maybe… No, we can't speculate, not on something like this. We've just got to trust him that he knows what he's doing and that Jess isn't just a hothead out for more blood like he was with that James fellow."

"I trust him," Andy said firmly, even though a tear started to slip through his lashes. It didn't fall because of fear, it didn't form because of sorrow; it was there because of faith. "If anyone can do it, Jess can."

Jonesy stood still, listening to the sound of hope in Andy's voice. He didn't vocalize it aloud, not because hope didn't exist inside of his own heart, but because life's experiences told him to keep certain hooray's silent until the reason behind it was proven genuine. But in Jonesy's whole being, his eyes smarting with his own version of anticipating moisture, his heart rang with similar admiration that had poured out of Andy's throat, believing too, that if anyone could do it, Jess could.

Jess rode late into the night before making camp. He was close to Mort's descriptive direction to where Jennifer James lived, but he knew he couldn't come calling until after sunup. There was little sleep on his bedroll as he waited for dawn, the anticipation that tapped constantly under his ribcage wouldn't allow his eyes to close for more than a few minutes at a time. When the sun was finally at a respectable distance in the sky, Jess rode up to the house that belonged to Ryan McAllister, tapped on the door and waited, fortunately, for only about fifteen seconds. A woman opened the door, and seeing Jess standing there, put her hands on the front of her pale green dress in an attempt to smooth the wrinkles in the skirt, for it appeared that she, too, had spent a sleepless night.

"Morning, Ma'am, are you Jennifer James?" Jess asked, watching as the dark-haired woman in her mid to upper twenties nodded before adding his own introduction. "My name's Jess Harper. I, um, I'm the one who killed your brother."

"Then I guess I owe you a debt of gratitude," Jennifer thrust her hand through the partially open door and put it into Jess' clasp. "Thank you, Mr. Harper. Now, if that's all, I'll just be…"

"That ain't all," Jess shook his head, "not by a long shot."

"Oh? I already talked to a sheriff about him just the other day," Jennifer sniffed her nose, trying to shut the door in Jess' face, "so I really don't see a point in talking to you."

"Well I think differently," Jess put his hand on the door before it completely closed and punched it open, wide enough for his whole body to step in.

"You do have a lot of nerve, don't you, Mr. Harper?" Jennifer asked with both hands on her hips.

"I reckon when I've got good reason," Jess answered quickly.

"And do you?" Jennifer bit the air with her question.

"I do," Jess slowly nodded, looking intently at the woman in front of him. She had fire in her, Jess could see it, and the slight family resemblance with Colton as they shared height, coloring and the same harshly drawn line of a mouth. But at least with her, Jess didn't feel as if he wanted to hold a gun on her like he'd pulled on Colton at their first meeting. The same ire just wasn't there.

"All right," Jennifer nodded, the line on her mouth turning into a deep frown, "so you said you killed Colton. Well, if you feel sorry for putting a bullet in him, don't. Colton meant nothing to me."

"Did you hate your brother?" Jess asked, remembering Mort's suspicions, and getting an idea about the possibility himself.

"I had no love for him," Jennifer shrugged, her scowl not budging, "but I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Maybe it ain't," Jess answered, trying to soften his voice, "but I'd still like to know why."

"All right," Jennifer nodded, folding her hands across her small chest, "we never got along, even as kids, but I could handle his cussedness, because my ma put up with pa's, but Colton crossed the line when he started badmouthing Ryan."

"Your fiancé?"

"Yes," Jennifer let a sigh pass through her lips before continuing. "Colton didn't think Ryan was good enough for me. I admit, Ryan has had his run-ins with the law, but he isn't all that bad."

"Where's your fiancé now?"

"I'm not sure," Jennifer's voice suddenly took on a worried tone. "He told me he was going to be gone for a few days and that I shouldn't worry, but, when you give your heart to someone, it's hard not to."

"How long ago did he leave?"

"About a week ago," Jennifer answered, tucking a lock of brown hair behind her ear as her dark eyes were cast to the floor.

"Hmmm," Jess' thoughts began to turn around and around in his head. Exactly a week ago was when Slim died. "What'd he look like?"

"He's tall, masculine, yet thin," Jennifer walked over to the window and leaned against its sill, her eyes looking outdoors, but her expression clearly showed that she wasn't actually viewing what was beyond the windowpane, but something far different. "He wears brown a lot, as it accentuates his sandy hair so well. He has very dark eyes, though, especially when he's moody, but you'd think with his fair skin they'd be blue, but no, they're dark."

Jess listened as Jennifer spoke, noting the sound of love in her voice as she described her man. The details translated in a different form in Jess' head, and the image of the dead man wavered in front of him. Jess never could see the upper half, and that part of the scene was still missing, but the legs were long, the pants were brown, one boot was there, one boot was gone, and blood was nearly everywhere. Slim? Or Ryan?

"Look, Jennifer," Jess said, wondering if the man at the bottom of the cliff was McAllister, "I ain't sure, but I might know what happened to Ryan, and the same thing mighta happened to my partner, too. I gotta find out. Is there anywhere, other than here, where Colton hung his hat?"

"He said he worked in Casper," Jennifer answered, turning away from the window to look at Jess' tense blue eyes, "but I doubted that. He's not much into truth telling."

"I know," Jess said grimly. "Are you sure there ain't someplace else?"

"I don't know," Jennifer put a hand to her cheek, "let me think. Um, Ryan told me once he was going to meet Colton to talk over our marriage plans at some cabin a few miles east of here. I've never been there, though."

"What about any other people in his life?" Jess asked, wanting to take note of every possibility that there could be someone else out there that might hold a key to this difficult door to unlock. "A friend maybe?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Thanks, Jennifer," Jess put his hand on the doorknob, "I reckon I've got more than what I started with, so I better get back at it."

"Mr. Harper," Jennifer put a hand on Jess' arm. "If you find out something about Ryan, I mean, even if it's not good, you'll let me know?"

"I will," Jess promised and then with a tip of his hat, he was back on his horse, his aim for an unseen cabin that he hoped held an answer, his one, with actual substance to it.

The cabin was well hidden, nestled against a rocky hill and surrounded by trees. Jess might have missed it if there wasn't a dim trail that led down to a creek just below it, where he found a set of horse tracks that were only a couple of days old. Leaving his horse out of hearing distance, Jess crept to the ground and hurried his silent steps to the cabin's door. Flattening his body against the frame, Jess touched the knob, not surprised that it was locked, but something as trivial as that could never stop Jess Harper. His gun in hand, readied to be fired if need be, Jess kicked open the door and fell to the floor as his momentum rolled him forward when the door burst wide. Something immediately moved on a cot in the corner at his entry and Jess kept his finger close to the trigger as he regained his feet.

"Hold it right there!" Jess barked the command so loud that even in the small room there was an echo, but his gun would soon slide back into its holster. There was no need for protection, just an astounding exclamation. "Slim!"


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

"Jess!" Slim exclaimed, putting a hand to his middle as rapidly rising made the wound throb. "What took you so long?"

"What took me so long?" Jess repeated the question, his face so broad with a grin, nearly every tooth showed. "Dad-gum, Slim, I only started looking for you since yesterday."

"Yesterday?" Slim shook his head back and forth as if he were trying to clear away a patch of fog in his mind while he reseated his backside back on the cot. "I know I've been a little out of it, but hasn't it been closer to a week since I've been laid up?"

"Something like that," Jess answered, the feeling of indescribable relief washing over him that made him want to embrace Slim and hoist him into the air.

"Then I repeat once more, what took you so long?" Slim stared strangely at Jess' wide grin and the eyes that sparkled like a sunny sky and not their usual fiery temperament. "And what are you grinning about anyway?"

"Partner," Jess put his hand on Slim's shoulder, "you wouldn't believe what we've all been through 'cause of you. My face can't shut that smile off, and I wouldn't even wanna try to, 'cause you after all, ain't dead no more."

"Dead?" Slim widened his eyes. "I was badly injured, yes, but dead? You thought I was dead?"

"More than thought so," Jess slowly nodded, going over the past week in his head in a few seconds flat, making the shadows return to dim his smile. "Fully believed it."

"I'm sorry," Slim watched as Jess struggled with his internal emotions, realizing that he wouldn't have been the only one that had suffered. "Is Andy all right?"

"He will be," Jess answered quickly, "once I get you home. But it ain't been a good time, Slim."

"I can only imagine," Slim said quietly, trying to envision how each member of his Laramie family had reacted to the news of his supposed death.

"How'd you get here, Slim?" Jess asked, looking around at the small cabin. There was only one room, with the cot that Slim was on pushed to one corner, a rocking chair that looked like it might not have held a man's weight, a stove that would have needed a thorough cleaning before a fire could have been started, and a single window, allowing a few shards of light to pass through the tattered curtains. There were also a couple of canteens alongside of the cot and a box with a dwindling amount of food provisions in it. But overall, it was far from a homey atmosphere.

"A man brought me here," Slim rubbed his jaw, feeling that he had a great need to use a razor.

"What man?" Jess instantly returned the question, his eyes searching Slim's face for the answer before it came.

"He said his name was Colton James," Slim saw the expression turn to smoldering anger on Jess' face and he raised a brow. "You know him?"

"We met," Jess said coldly.

"And?" Slim prompted.

"He was a snake, a skunk, a no-good liar and outlaw," Jess answered with a tightly clenched jaw and equally as tight fists. "I wished that I woulda put my hands around his throat the first time I laid eyes on him and shook the blamed truth outta his filthy, lying lips."

"Sounds like you don't like him much."

"Why should I?" Jess growled out the question as he reached out his hand to touch the bandage around Slim's waist, his voice softening when Slim winced. "He shot you."

"What?" Slim shook his head, the confusion that filled his temples made him rise to his feet, only to have Jess put two hands on his shoulders to force him back into a seated position. "He told me that a man named McAllister shot me. I guess we're just going to have to find James and talk to him, get him to finally tell the truth."

"We can't talk to him."

"Why not?" Slim asked, although by the look on Jess' face, he could already make an accurate guess.

"I killed him," Jess held up a hand to stop Slim from interrupting. "It was a fair fight. But not before he goaded me into nearly blowing him in two. He said he killed you, laughed about it, boasted over it, and nearly put the gun in my hand, waiting for me to pay him back for it. I reckon he wouldn't have gone that far with me if someone else had done the shooting. You said McAllister?"

"Yeah," Slim nodded, watching the shadows shift in Jess' eyes, "you know him too?"

"No," Jess answered quickly, "only the name. Was supposed to be the man James' sister was gonna marry. He ain't been around for the same amount of time you've been hurt. Since you're here, it makes me kinda figure the dead man I found was McAllister."

"You found a dead man," Slim put a finger to his chest, "but didn't know it wasn't me?"

"I reckon if you woulda seen what I'd seen," Jess said slowly, the emotion of the memory not far from his voice, "you woulda not known the truth, either. I tell you, Slim, it's quite the story."

"Maybe you should tell me about it," Slim said, but developed a slight frown when Jess quickly declined with a shake of his head.

"If anyone's gonna tell their side of the story first," Jess tapped the air with his finger in Slim's direction, "it's you. I see the marks of the bear, I know you were shot, but no bear that I've ever seen totes iron. What happened up there Slim?"

"The nightmares come in different scenes," Slim closed his eyes and swallowed, "but I haven't forgotten the real one yet. Likely won't ever."

"I know it must be hard, Slim," Jess put his hand on Slim's arm, "but I gotta know the truth."

"I can tell it, Jess. Just let me take it slow. It was night, very little moon to go by, and Andy called to me," Slim began, but his words weren't very far into the story when his entire being relived it all over again.

Slim let the rifle in his hands start to slip back to the ground, the thought that danger had only existed inside of Andy's mind taking his alertness down to a more normal level. He understood that Andy would be more easily frightened in the unfamiliar setting that was their campsite. Even Slim had jumped at the mere sound of an owl's hoot at a younger age, so he wasn't about to scold his brother for waking him for nothing in the middle of the night. He looked down at Andy, ready to set a smile on his face when suddenly his head was positioned to stare straight ahead of him and a chill ran down his spine. A low, menacing sound that could only be emitted out of a wild throat rumbled in the brush ahead of them and then its claws scratched the earth.

"Stay here, Andy," Slim softly commanded, standing tall and steady, he clutched the rifle in his hands and then he stepped forward into the darkness.

His every move was made cautiously, knowing that somewhere just ahead of him was danger with the potential to not only harm himself, but Andy as well. He looked behind him, fearful that Andy might not have been obedient, disturbed that he could no longer see their campfire ablaze, but grateful that the steps of his brother were not following him. Slim knew that he couldn't turn back, that he had to keep going, no matter what would happen next. He took another step forward, the chill so evident on his spine that he thought he'd backed up into a snow bank. Slim could smell it, could hear it breathing, but he couldn't see it, and then he raised his rifle. But what if he fired and missed?

"Run, Andy! Run!" Slim gave the frantic call, hoping and praying that his brother's feet would be swift and take him to safety, as there was no guarantee that he had the power in his own hands to down the force of evil in front of him. He'd given Andy his gun belt, but he'd never really wanted the boy to have to use it. The farther away Andy was from danger, the better Slim felt about what was ahead of him.

His shout brought a deep, almost unheard growl, and instead of backing up, Slim stepped forward, the action sending the animal scurrying backward in the brush, but it wouldn't go far, only rising to stand on twos instead of fours. And then it opened its mouth wide, producing an earthshaking, deafening roar. Bear! Slim had already known what was there by instinct alone, but now that the sound bounced around on every tree on the hillside, repeatedly smacking him in the chest, the reality that he faced was even more frightening than the sound's ferocity.

Slim saw the silhouette, as big as he'd ever seen, raised against the sky and he took aim, ready to pull the trigger, but then the rifle was no longer in his hands. The bear swatted the rifle out of his grasp before he could even fire, sending it scooting across the ground like it was nothing but a broken twig. He raised his arms, growing his height, but it wasn't enough, for an outstretched paw swiped across his chest. Slim staggered backward, finding a rock to lean against and he watched the bear come at him, knowing that it was ready for the kill. But then Slim's head whipped to the left, for he was no longer alone. His first thought was Andy, but it was a man, then another, and they both were armed. Slim barely grew a smile onto his face when the first rifle shot exploded, but instead of the bullet striking the bear, it slammed into Slim instead. He heard only one following report before blackness overcame him.

Slim awoke a few minutes later, but to his groggy, pain-induced mind, it didn't feel like such a short span of time had passed. He shook his head, dispelling the sound that must have been created somewhere in his imagination of a man screaming, for silence was now meeting his conscious state. Slim's eyes squinted into the darkness and saw the bear lying flat, dead, but little relief washed over him, for it wasn't the bear that had put a bullet in him. Slim tried to rise from his position on the ground, but the bleeding increased as he moved, so he placed a hand over the wound, resting his head back onto the earth's floor. Suddenly footsteps started coming in his direction and Slim's eyes darted back and forth, searching for a weapon, but his rifle was beyond his reach. Slim wondered if he didn't have much longer to live, but the man that soon stepped into his line of vision was no longer carrying a weapon.

"Looks like you were nearly done in by more than one hombre," the man kneeled over him, checking his wounds. "You don't have to fear me, it was McAllister that shot you. Not me."

"Who are you?" Slim asked, still wary, but knowing that in his condition, he wouldn't have been strong enough to fight this man off if he wasn't telling the truth.

"Colton James."

"Slim Sherman," he answered after a gasping breath.

"You out here alone fighting bears?" James asked, pressing a folded bandana to the gunshot wound.

"No," Slim pointed toward their campsite. "My brother and I were up here fishing. I told him to run. He's going to need some help."

"Sure, sure," James nodded, shifting his eyes in all directions. "I'll find him."

"My partner, Jess Harper," Slim put his hand on James' arm. "He's at the relay station twelve miles east of Laramie. Get him."

"You need a doctor not a partner."

"Just… get… Jess," Slim said as his head dropped to the ground and he knew nothing but painless darkness.

There was a long period of time where there was nothing, where memories were shut off during bouts of unconsciousness, but Slim wakened long enough once to know that he was riding in the back of a wagon, the jostling making his innards roll with more than just the gunshot wound. He raised his head, the scenery that passed by being unfamiliar, so he craned his head to view the driver, but he could only see a man's back. There was a cloud that covered Slim's mind, otherwise there might have been recognition made, for even though he didn't really know the man, it wasn't a stranger that handled the team of horses. His reality quickly turned back into darkness, staying securely locked in place until sometime later, when his eyes opened and found himself in a strange cabin, with Colton James hovering over him.

"What about Andy?" Slim asked, his hands loosely clutching James' collar.

"He's safe," Colton answered with a nod. "The old man at the relay station was tending him."

"Jonesy," Slim breathed a sigh of relief. "What about Jess?"

"He'll be coming," Colton glanced at the door, anxious to leave, but trying not to convey his departing plans to Sherman.

"Good," Slim smiled, although exhaustion and pain soon brought his eyelids back to a close.

But there was a part of the story that only one man could know, because he was the only one living the lie. Colton James took a step backward and wiped his brow, the relief washing over him as he exited the cabin. Now that he was leaving Sherman alone to die where no one would find him, he could be clear of not just one killing, but two.

"I've been here ever since, waiting for you," Slim's voice took on a louder tone as his mind shifted back to reality.

"He lied to you, too," Jess said, popping his fist into his open palm, and even though the man was already dead, he wished that it had been Colton's face that had been hit instead.

"Over and over, apparently," Slim answered softly with a shake of his head. "I wish I would've known what he was really like when I first laid eyes on him, although there wasn't much that I could've done if I had. I had no weapon. But Jess, there's something that doesn't make sense, though. If he shot me in the first place, why didn't he finish the job when he found out I wasn't dead?"

"I've been wondering that myself," Jess answered, trying to tap into the mind of Colton James, but finding it difficult to put himself in such a despicable liar's boots, so he let his mind shift more toward how an outlaw thinks. "You know, Slim, he mighta been one of the worst no-good's that I've been up against, but I'll say this about him, he was sure blamed smart. That mighta been what made him not pull the trigger on you twice."

"How's that?" Slim asked, unable to see Jess' thoughts through the expression on his face.

"You said you told him you weren't alone up there, that Andy was with you, and then you mentioned me. Maybe he started regretting downing you in the first place, as what he'd done mighta been not as in the clear as he'd first thought."

"Why'd he bring me here though?"

"I guess he brought you here to just let you die, figuring that no one would stumble across your body out on a trail someplace. Maybe after he met me, he knew I wasn't gonna just sit idle and cry myself to sleep at night. Dad-gum, maybe if I hadn't been all fired up, ready to blow his fool head off, he wouldn't have gone back to cover his trail so well."

"Could be."

"But then again, I don't know what we're speculating on all this for, when the biggest question mark is right in front of us." Jess touched the bandage around Slim's waist. "If Colton wanted you to die, then who in tarnation dug the bullet outta you? He sure wasn't gonna bring no doc to your aid, no matter what he told his sister."

"I don't know," Slim shook his head, the fuzzy corners of his brain starting to form a different memory into clearer focus. "There was someone else here, but I'm pretty sure I only saw him once, tying the bandage in place. I'm not sure if he was a real doc or not. Just that he had a full, black beard."

"Black beard," Jess put his hand on his jaw and rubbed it across his mouth. "Where did I see a man like that? It wasn't that long ago. It was, dad-gum…"

"What Jess?"

"He was the man that Colton James was talking to just before I killed him," Jess answered, light flickering in his eyes.

"There's our connection," Slim said, and although he had more to add, he was silenced as Jess suddenly put a finger to his lips.

"Shhh," Jess readied his gun and stepped quietly to the door, his sharp hearing picking up the incoming steps toward the cabin and looking back to Slim, he barely let sound escape through his lips as he gestured with his head at the door. "Someone's coming."

The doorknob was turned, but as Jess had broken the lock when he'd kicked it in, the touch brought an instant awareness of its useless condition, and the sound of a gun being cocked was heard just on its other side. Jess flattened himself against the wall, waiting for the door to open and as it was pushed open a crack, a pistol was fitted through first.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Jess waited until the wrist was in sight, and instead of using his own gun for his first mode of defense, he chose to use his bodily strength. Gripping the wrist with one hand, Jess yanked the body of the man inside, hauling him up and over his shoulder, drawing a yelp from a surprised mouth as Jess tossed the body across the room, where it rolled to a halt when a head hit against the wall. With his chest heaving with angry breaths, Jess' gun was now in a direct, pointed position, but as his eyes searched the man on the floor, it wasn't the man's face that came into focus first, even though it was easily recognized, but the badge that was pinned to his chest. The star belonged to none other than Laramie Sheriff Mort Cory.

"Jess Harper! What in blue blazes?" Mort rubbed his wrist, glaring up at Jess as he holstered his weapon.

"Sorry, Mort," Jess reached out a hand to haul Mort up off the floor. "Wasn't expecting you."

"Oh?" Mort raised a brow, "and just who were you expecting?" 

"Dunno," Jess casually replied. "What're you doing here anyway?"

"Jonesy told me you lit out," Mort explained, now putting his hand to the back of his head where a small lump began to form. "I had a feeling you'd head for the sister's place. When I questioned her about you, she told me a little more than what she'd told me before. Found your trail, and I wanted to make sure you didn't come up here to shoot first and ask questions later. I see you're here to just toss lawmen around like a sack of feed instead."

"Not quite," Jess smiled, turning a finger in Slim's direction.

"Huh?" Mort slowly turned, realizing only at that moment that they weren't the only two in the room. "Slim? Is that really you?"

"It really is, Mort," Slim's face lit up into a wide grin.

"By golly, Son, I don't know what to say, except, thank the good Lord!" Mort wrapped his arms around Slim, giving him a hearty pat on the back and then as he pulled away, he looked at the bandage around Slim's waist. "Who did this to you?"

"Colton James," Jess answered for Slim, his voice returning to hardened steel.

"Well, I guess he didn't lie about everything," Mort said, slowly shaking his head.

"But to find the rest of our answers," Jess pointed to an unknown location beyond the cabin's walls, "we've gotta find a man that's somehow involved in all of this. He musta been in his forties, maybe fifty, with a full, black beard. You know anyone like that, Mort? He was in Laramie the day I killed James."

"I remember seeing him," Mort answered, thinking back to the day Colton and Jess squared off. "But I didn't talk to him. I think he was getting on the northbound stage when James was hauled off to the funeral parlor."

"Maybe he's in Casper," Jess suggested and then turned to Slim. "It's about eight or ten miles, can you ride, double, with me?"

"I think so," Slim nodded.

"Good as any place to start," Mort put a hand on Jess' chest to stop him from exiting the cabin before he could, "but let me do the searching first. Now, now, don't balk. You're going to have to take it easy with Slim in your saddle, so I'll go on ahead."

"All right, Mort," Jess conceded, "but don't be surprised when I get there that my gun'll be drawn."

"Just don't point it at me," Mort winked, giving his wrist an extra rub as Jess' grip had colorized into a bruise there, and then went out the door.

The ride to Casper wasn't as slow as either man in Jess' saddle expected, but it wasn't ridden in silence. Slim wanted to know about Andy, and Jess let his pride show through his words as he expressed how Andy had been handling himself in the wake of tragedy. "Sure he's grieving," Jess said with a slight smile, "but that only shows how much he loved his big brother. But what's really important is that he's got the gumption to carry on in your footsteps. You'd be right proud of him, Slim."

Slim figured he'd be proud of his brother, too, Jess included. When the last mile of land was in front of them, they drew to silence, the necessary shifting of their thoughts from home to an unnamed bearded man who'd saved Slim's life who they hoped was somewhere in Casper. Jess prompted his mount to quicken his steps as they entered the town, the anticipation building even in the animal as it felt the tension in both master and friend. Finally entering town, they both spotted Mort at the same time, and Jess pulled his horse to a stop outside of the marshal's office.

"In here, boys," Mort said, gesturing with his hand for them to join him inside of the jailhouse.

"Did you find him?" Slim asked, as he and Jess stepped through the door, his eyes instantly finding the bearded man behind bars before Mort could reply.

"I didn't," Mort shook his head, "but Marshal Ben Brown did. Arrested him yesterday on a warrant for robbery."

"Robbery?" Slim stepped up to the bearded man that stood on the other side of the bars. "Who are you, and why did you help me?"

"My name's Michael Casey," he answered with a rich baritone voice, making Slim instantly remember hearing that same vocal tone at the cabin after the bullet was extracted, telling him, "you're going to be all right, now."

"You know doctoring?" Jess asked, wondering how a robber could skillfully dig a bullet out of a man's flesh.

"I served as a doctor during the war," Casey explained, "but once the fighting was over, I put away my medical supplies for a," he opened his hands wide and flexed them twice, "for a different trade."

"I'm mighty obliged for you saving my life," Slim reached a hand through the bars to shake Casey's hand, "but I'd truly like to know why you did it."

"I said I'm a robber," Casey shook his head slightly, "not a killer. I left that dirty work to Colton James."

Jess stiffened at the name, his body radiating the hatred that he'd felt for the man all over again. "What was he to you?"

"We were partners at one time, but then parted ways," Casey answered with a shrug. "I met up with him about a couple of weeks ago, but didn't want any part of his plan to kill his soon-to-be brother-in-law, Ryan McAllister."

"So Colton did kill him," Jess lowered his head, his thoughts quickly turning to Jennifer James and the grief that he thought that he had to bear, was now going to be on her instead. "But why did he shoot Slim?"

"He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time," Casey sighed after his reply.

"That's kinda what he said to me, except Colton said it as right place, right time," Jess said, the anger pumping through his veins as if Colton James was standing in front of him all over again.

"And the bear?" Slim asked, rubbing the claw marks on his chest with his hand.

"That was part of his decoy, to let his sister think that Colton's hands were clean from McAllister's death. He'd been scouting around and found the bear and then took McAllister with him to kill him, by bear and bullet, but he thought they were up there alone."

"So when he saw me and the bear coming for me, Colton knew he had to shoot me first," Slim put a finger to his middle, "because the bear wouldn't attack a dead man. Except I didn't die."

"Wait a minute," Jess suddenly put his hand up to halt the continuation of the story, in case it was just that, another fabrication. "Colton James was the biggest liar in all the western territories combined, how do we know he was telling you the truth?"

"Colton and I always got along," Casey explained with a half smile, "he had no reason to lie to me. I met up with him again after he took the boy to your ranch and he felt the need to boast about his recent accomplishment."

"Probably because he just narrowly missed getting his head blown off," Jess growled, running what Casey told him, what he knew to be truth, and what he'd speculated about Colton, and everything suddenly fit together. As harrowing and ugly as it was, it had to be the truth.

"That still doesn't answer why you helped me," Slim said slowly, trying to see the answer in Casey's face, but the beard made it nearly impossible.

"Because by the time I caught up with Colton, the murder had already been committed. I knew it was too late to help McAllister, but it wasn't too late to help you. I convinced Colton to take you to the cabin so no one would find your body and then I went there and took the bullet out."

"Why didn't you just go to the law?" Jess asked, both his eyes and voice starting to spark with fury toward Casey, since he knew that if he had spoken up with what he'd known earlier, their every ounce of traumatic grief could have been avoided.

"Because, Sonny," Casey said with an annoyed tone to his voice as he glared at Jess, "I've been a wanted man for several years. I can't just walk into a lawman's office and expect not to get handcuffed. I got caught as it is trying to buy some supplies to take out to the cabin for when my patient started to recuperate. The thing is, I didn't know that the storekeeper was on a stagecoach I held up last Easter. He recognized the beard, and well, now I'm here."

"There's just one more thing I wanna know," Jess narrowed his eyes at Casey. "How did McAllister's body get moved? I saw it, but then it wasn't there anymore."

"He didn't tell me that part," Casey shrugged and then went to sit on his bunk, as his side of the tale was now complete.

"Well if I can go by something Colton said," Jess thought back to the moment that had made him slam Colton's body against the stage office's wall, "he musta been spying on me when I first went searching for the truth. He knew I couldn't identify the dead man, since I didn't make it down to the body at the bottom of the cliff. How he did, I dunno, but he musta figured he better do some hiding, burying, or something, to rid the evidence of McAllister's body since everyone else thought it was Slim's."

"A good outlaw cover's his tracks," Mort said, and Marshal Brown agreed to the statement with a nod.

"But it takes a better man to uncover them," Slim smiled, putting a hand on Jess' shoulder, clearly indicating that Jess was that very man.

"Well, since the situation seems to finally be under control," Mort said as he reached out a hand for the marshal to shake, "then I guess it's time for us to get back to Laramie."

"Couldn't agree more, Mort," Slim nodded and then turned to face the man behind bars once more. "Thank you again for saving my life. I know there's no way I can repay you, but I'll never forget what you did for me."

"That goes for me too," Jess said, the gratitude in his chest finally able to release the pent up tension that had been built since Colton James' arrival at the ranch.

"Come on, Slim," Jess put his arm around his partner after they exited the marshal's office, walking toward the stage depot. "There's a coupla fellows at home who are gonna be mighty anxious to see you. I'll let you take it easy and ride the coach home, but I ain't got no need to swallow its dust so I'll stick with my mount and catch up with you on the road later."

"Where are you heading first?" Slim asked, the pause before Jess answered due to the exchange of money with the clerk as he was handed his ticket for home.

"I gotta tell a woman that her man ain't gonna be coming back," Jess said softly, looking in the direction of his destination, his body once more feeling the weight of grief pressing hard on all sides, because this time, he was the bearer of bad news.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

She didn't cry, at least, not where Jess could see, when he told Jennifer James that her fiancé was dead. She thanked him with soft words, for telling her, but also for taking down the wicked man that had caused their trauma even if it was her brother, and then gently closed the door. As Jess turned away, he lowered his head, knowing exactly the torment that was now clutching her heart. He knew it all too well, but his latest grief had been relieved, but hers had only just begun.

Jess rode away, the following hours alone with the wind in his face began to create a great shifting of emotions inside of his heart. Day after day in the grueling battle after he thought he'd lost Slim, Jess had been overwhelmed with the burden of grief, suppressed inside of his own heart. Now, it was as if the hardened doorway of his soul was thrust wide open, and he was freed from death's weight. It was almost as if he was living one of the musical note's in Jonesy's song, for the skies were clear, and on his horse he did fly, all the way until he caught up with the stagecoach. Slim stuck his head out of the window when Jess came up along the coach's side, a matching grin on each man's face.

Yet this feeling of joy not only existed on the inside, but was extended beyond the happily thrumming hearts, spreading out for miles, where a stagecoach rolled, the wheels running over dirt that still held the imprint of a certain man, a team of horses that still knew his voice, and a man that called out the "hi-yah's" whose tears mingled with that dust from the road the closer he came to the Sherman property line. When the stage finally rounded the last bend before coming to a stop, once more, the driver was thoroughly sobbing.

"Sherman Relay Station," Mose called out, although through his tears, it sounded less accurately pronounced. The lone occupant of the stage and its outrider had no need for the announcement, but Mose shouted it out anyway, because its leader had returned.

"Mose," Jonesy ran out of the house with Andy beside him, looking up at the weeping driver with wide eyes, "what's wrong? Did the boss finally decide to reroute the line around us?"

"No," Jess answered the question before Mose could exclaim the truth, trying not to grin too wide as he dismounted his horse and walked to the coach. He put his hand on the door handle and pulled it open, his eyes shining the smile that he was trying to hide on his mouth. "The boss finally decided to come home."

"What?" Jonesy peered inside as Slim stepped out into the light. "Slim! It can't be! Slim! You're alive! I don't know as if I'm gonna laugh or cry so maybe I'll just do a little of both. You're really alive?"

"I'm alive, all right, Jonesy," Slim grinned as he put both feet onto very welcomed Sherman ground and then he turned to Andy, who stood just to the right of Jonesy, his mouth agape as his face showed a mixture of shock, overwhelming grief, and the dawning of joy. "Andy."

"Oh, Slim!" Andy leapt into his brother's arms, his tears exploding from his eyes as soon as his face hit Slim's shoulder. Jonesy's laugh took a few moments to dissolve as only tears existed on his face, Jess had to look away lest something wet slipped through his lashes, and Mose was bawling even louder than before.

"What happened to you, Boy?" Jonesy asked when he finally didn't have a tear to wipe away. "You look a little peaked, so I know you weren't just out there somewhere frolicking with a fair maiden."

"No, nothing of the kind. It's a long, hard story that we'll talk all out later over a good, hot meal," Slim said softly. "Right now I just want to say that I'm sorry that you all had to suffer, thinking that I was dead."

"We sure did," Jonesy smiled, his laughter trickling out of his lips once more as he spoke. "Had a funeral and everything. You've never seen so much blubbering in all your life, especially from me."

"You woulda been mighty proud of your brother, though, Slim," Jess said, even though he'd already told Slim every detail on their shared ride into Casper.

"I am," Slim put his arm around Andy's shoulders and gave him a squeeze.

"I cried a lot, and it sure hurt awful bad to keep going, but I know one thing, I couldn't have done it, Slim," Andy reached out and clasped Jess' hand, drawing him closer to where he and Slim stood, "without Jess."

"Thanks, Jess," Slim looked into Jess' eyes, even though Jess was trying to drop his head low. "I'm proud of you, too."

"Aw," Jess shrugged, "it ain't nothing to raise a fuss about. I just did what I had to do."

"And more," Slim said, closing his eyes, knowing that his confidence in Jess had never been shaken, and now it was even broader than before. Even during his dreams, or the ones better described as nightmares, Slim knew that Jess was still there for him, Andy and the entire ranch, and always would be.

"Come on inside," Jonesy ushered Slim toward the front door. "You look tuckered out. What you need is a big bowl of something hot, and don't worry, it's gonna be chicken, not mulligan."

Smiles certainly could outshine tears, even if some slipped through lashes while the grins were ever present. Supper held the promised comfort food and Slim's story, and although once more it was difficult to be on both ends, the telling and hearing, the conclusion was nowhere near Slim's end. Slim was alive, and all of their lives would keep on going, from chore to chore, day to day, far happier than ever before. Even more so, as long as something that needed saying, was finally said.

"Hey, Slim," Jess stepped out onto the porch where Slim was seated, staring out into the shifting shadows of the evening. "You awake?"

"Yeah," Slim nodded, looking up at Jess. "Just resting. Need something?"

"No," Jess shook his head as his hands went into his pockets. "Just thought we could talk, you know, about anything."

"Sure Jess," Slim motioned to the chair beside him. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, you know I ain't the kind for making speeches…"

"I think differently," Slim gently interrupted.

"What do you mean by that?" Jess asked, his voice a soft tone of astonishment.

"Oh, I don't know," Slim shrugged, looking up at the sky as the first stars started shimmering above him. "I think I know you pretty well by now, and it's just something that I feel inside. After all, don't you accomplish whatever you set out to do?"

"I reckon," Jess answered, as he too, stared up at the stars, his thoughts spanning back to the day of the funeral when he'd delivered his silent, heart-felt speech. Jonesy had told him that when one spoke from the heart, those words had the power to be heard no matter how they were given. Maybe Slim, even though far apart, in his own heart, he knew them too.

"Well then," Slim prompted, turning his eyes back to Jess' face, "what did you want to say?"

"I suppose I could try to say everything that I feel out loud," Jess answered, his eyes still on the shiny, silver dots in the sky, "but it ain't gonna be long and fancy, no matter what you think about my speech making abilities, so here it goes. When a man dies, Slim, you know, it's the end. There ain't no more time to say what hasn't yet been said. That happened to me, but I ain't gonna let it happen again. Slim, all of my brother's are dead, and, well…" Jess' eyes no longer took in the darkening night's scenery, but were now attached to his boots. "…Dad-gum." It certainly was a lot easier to speak from the heart when the words stayed right there in its core.

"Not all of them," Slim said slowly, getting a rise of Jess' head in his direction. "I'm still alive, and you've got Andy, too. Is that what you were trying to say?"

"Something like that," Jess answered with a half smile.

"Is everything settled then?" Slim asked, and then grew his own smile when Jess nodded.

"Sure," Jess stood, but paused his step when Jonesy and Andy walked through the door.

"You two gonna plan another brother's fishing trip?" Jonesy asked, looking first at Slim and then Andy.

"Haven't talked about it," Slim shrugged, "why?"

"Well if you do," Jonesy pointed a thumb at Jess and then back to his own chest, "you best take me and Jess along. Jess, so he can shoot at the things that growl in the night, and me, so I can actually catch us some fish. All this time has passed since we started talking about the taste of fish and I still haven't savored it yet."

"All right, Jonesy," Slim nodded, putting his arm around the older man, "it's a deal."

"Sounds wonderful," Andy beamed, getting pulled into a shared hug by Jonesy's hand.

"Just don't fall in and catch another round of pneumonia," Jess' grin quickly turned into a warm chuckle, his foot starting to step toward the door.

"I'll let you have the pleasure this time," Jonesy laughed his return.

"Hey, Jess," Slim reached out a hand and put it on Jess' shoulder, stopping him from turning away. "You belong in here too."

Jess dropped his head, but only for a moment, and then as a smile tugged at both corners of his mouth, he joined the loving embrace. The feeling of belonging and a strong brotherly bond not only radiated from one heart, but glowed like a light in the center of them all, for the family was once again, complete.


End file.
